Slaughter House
by Bob Rhynoplasty
Summary: COMPLETE! How did Gibbs and Tony meet? What was it about the young Baltimore cop that earned Gibbs' trust above all others? When a case of a slaughtered marine leads Gibbs to Baltimore, he's forced to team up with the locals to catch a serial killer.
1. Prologue

**Slaughter House**

**Summary: **How did Gibbs and Tony meet? What was it that made Gibbs like and trust Tony above all others? Well, it started in Baltimore...

**Disclaimer:** I only own what you don't recognize. So far, that would be Emily and John. A few people later on too.

**Author's Note:** Normally, this would be where I tell you the pairing. However, this is a GEN fic. I know, totally boring. But probably, like the show, I'm gonna toss in a few little innuendos between Gibbs and Tony. Also, I know that "Gibbs meets Tony" storyline has been done countless times, hell, I've read a few of them, but I wanted to do my own, hopefully you find it interesting. I don't know, I'm not actually done writing it, but hopefully soon! Also, while this is a writing in progress piece, I'm hoping to have at least two chapters done and waiting before I post one. For example, chapters one and two are already done, so I'm posting the prologue. And it will probably follow that method. The story is short, don't expect long chapters, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

Emily stumbled for what was probably the tenth time in the last five blocks. But every time she just laughed it off. She was drunk. Not just tipsy, but completely bear your breasts, hook up with the first guy you see, falling over drunk.

John, on the other hand, was not. He'd had a few, to be sure, but not nearly as many as Emily, and not nearly as quickly. So when the pretty little blonde thing with rum breath grabbed his package and told him they should go somewhere private he should have told her 'no.' But instead he was leading her to the most secluded spot he knew of—that wasn't his apartment—to fuck her brains out.

"So, where are we going?" Emily slurred. Her entire upper body was pressed against John's side. His body twitched with desire. "Is it far?"

He shook his head. "Not much farther." He looked down at her. Her hair was a complete mess. Everything about her screamed 'wasted' but John couldn't give a fuck. He was about to hook up with a total hottie, and that was all that mattered.

Emily grabbed his jacket lapels and pulled him towards her. Her back hit the building and she pulled him so he was completely pressed against her. "What if I can't wait?" John smiled as he leaned down and kissed her. She reached between them and grabbed a hold of his dick. He groaned as it sprang to life.

Much to his displeasure, he pulled away. "A few more seconds. We're almost there." He pulled away and yanked her with him. He was getting antsy and he was hard as hell. He wanted to get this over with.

He almost jumped up in excitement when he made it to his destination. It was the shoe store that his roommate worked at. Kyle gave John a key in case he needed a quiet place. It was their agreement, since Kyle was a big ole' fag, and John was clearly not, fucking wasn't allowed at the apartment. So they used the backroom in the shoe store for their rendezvous. It helped especially so Cara, John's girlfriend, didn't find out about it.

He pulled the key out of his pocket while simultaneously sliding his other hand under Emily's skirt. She was already soaking wet. She wrapped her leg around his waist, pushing her wetness into his groin. He groaned as the lock clicked.

The door swung open and the two tumbled inside. But when Emily landed, she didn't hit hardwood, or carpet for that matter. It was too soft… and shaped funny. John jumped up and flicked the light switch.

And froze.

Emily looked up in her drunken, lust filled haze. "What?" She turned around to look at what she landed on. It was a body.

She jumped to her feet shouting out a loud "Oh my god!" The two stared on in horror at the sight before them. There were four bodies, all covered in blood, lying around the floor. One of them was Kyle.

Emily visibly shook only a moment before she let out a blood curdling scream.

* * *

**I know it's short, and I wish I could say the rest of the chapters get longer, but so far, not really. Well, at the very least, I hope you like it, and I hope you keep reading! Please, you will make me very happy!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Ok, I was actually planning on making you guys wait a week for the next installment, however, I had an AMAZING night tonight. I got to see Thunder from Down Under, had my ass slapped by an incredibly hot shirtless australian man, and got to hug another one (after I sat on his lap for a photo). And, my brother bought me a knife for christmas, so I'm very excited. So, I thought I would share my good mood with all of you!

**Author's Note 2:** Ok, I wasn't sure about timing for this fic. I'm pretty sure that Tony never met Langer or Burley, however, they're the only former members of Team Gibbs that I know, so I decided to use both of them. If its AU, I apologize, I could give you reasons, but that would give away the story, and I just can't do that.

**Disclaimer:** I only own what you don't recognize, and you will find one of those in this chapter.

* * *

**One**

The phone screeched next to his head. Jethro Gibbs would have liked nothing more than to ignore the call for once. But sadly he wasn't allowed such pleasures. He was a federal agent, and the phone call could only mean one thing. He had a case.

He sat up, and immediately hit his head on a piece of wood. He had fallen asleep under the boat again. Damn it, now he was mad. He grabbed the phone and yanked it open. "Yeah, Gibbs." He rubbed his tired eyes.

"Hey boss, it's Stan. We got a case up in Baltimore. Marine was found dead in a shoe shop. According to the police scanner, the scene's pretty bloody." Jethro stopped rubbing his eyes and looked up, suddenly alert.

"You heard about this case over a police scanner?"

Stan was silent for a second. "Well, yeah. We didn't actually get the call, but I mean it's a Marine, so it's our jurisdiction, right?" Jethro smiled. "Boss?"

"Call Ducky, have him meet us up there, Gas the truck and pick up me and Langer on route." He left out his thought about how fun this was going to be. Jethro's second favorite game—second only to musical interrogation rooms—was pissing off local LEO's, especially Baltimore. Those pricks thought they were so tough and whatnot because of all the crime in their city. Jethro's personal thought was that if they were better cops there wouldn't be so much crime.

Before Stan could say anything else, Jethro hung up on him. He searched around for his coffee cup. He finally located it at his workbench. No doubt it was ice cold by now. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but he guessed it'd been a while.

He slowly climbed out from under the boat and downed the rest of his coffee. He was right, it was ice. He sighed heavily. The case really couldn't wait until morning?

He didn't bother changing his clothes, just grabbed the things he needed and went outside to wait. Only a few minutes passed by the time Burley and Langer pulled up in the NCIS van. Jethro didn't stop to chat as he climbed inside next to his two agents.

Stan Burley and Brent Langer couldn't be more different. Langer was too serious at times, used big words to make himself smart. He'd only been working for Jethro for about two months, and he was still intimidated by everything. Burley had been with Jethro for over four years. He was smart, but not too smart. He had a sense of humor and he anticipated Jethro's actions. Everybody liked him. Barely anybody liked Langer.

The ride to Baltimore was quiet. Not surprising, the three of them were still pretty tired. And the van was packed pretty tight. It was an uncomfortable drive. Needless to say, Jethro was beyond happy when it was over and they pulled into the crime scene.

Jethro jumped out of the truck. He didn't bother to look back to see if his team was following. If they had any sense at all, they would. There were patrol officers all over the scene, taking photos and going over anything that might be considered evidence. Jethro shook his head. He didn't like having so many people at his scenes. His teams could do everything that all of these men could. And they did it better.

He stepped under the yellow caution tape and surveyed the scene. Burley was right, it was bloody. Really bloody. Four bodies, looked like all of them were stabbed to death, or beaten to death. He was almost hesitant to allow Langer in here, the poor boy would probably vomit all over the place.

He heard the tape shift behind him, probably the boys ready to get to work. Jethro fixed his NCIS cap and went looking for the detective in charge. He figured it was the only guy on the scene not in a uniform.

He was a good looking fellow, with tanned skin and brown hair. He was dressed casually. No doubt he just crawled out of bed and went into work too. Jethro himself almost forgot his jacket and cap before he left the househe was so damn tired .

The detective was crouched down next to one of the bodies. This one had no face. Jethro stepped up to him. "You the detective in charge?" The brunette looked up. He stood up and glared at the silver haired man. He was tall. Slightly taller than Jethro.

"Who's asking?" And he had an attitude.

Gibbs pulled out his I.D. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, this is my team, Agents Burley and Langer." He flipped his I.D. over to show him his badge. The detective looked at it curiously.

"You're a long way from Washington, don't you think, Special Agent Gibbs?" The way he said his name was full of disdain. Obviously he didn't like that a fed was trying to get in on his crime scene. The older man didn't really care

Jethro put his I.D. away before responding. "One of these bodies is a Marine. That makes it my jurisdiction." He gave the younger detective a blank stare. Langer secretly said that the blank stare was sometimes worse than the glare. He didn't know that Jethro knew.

But the detective just scoffed. "One Marine, three civilians. Sorry buddy, but sometimes quantity is better than quality." He turned away to survey the rest of the scene.

"It's not up for discussion, detective." Jethro moved further into the man's personal space. "The Marine makes this my case."

"Yeah, and the city and three civilians makes this _my _case. Sorry you had to make the drive out here, but I don't need you." Jethro grinned. He could see the detective getting angrier. This was going to be a lot of fun.

Without moving his gaze from the Baltimore detective, Gibbs shouted out, "Langer!"

"Yeah boss."

"Talk to the witnesses. Burley!"

"Yo!"

"Sketch and shoot. Go over everything Baltimore already did."

"On it boss!"

The detective stepped forward, turning purple with anger. "No, woah, wait a minute! What the hell do you think you're doing? I told you, this is a Baltimore homicide case!"

"Well, last I checked, _detective_, I don't work for you." He turned around to see his team already at work. And moving quicker than the entire Baltimore team. Jethro smiled proudly. "Now that's efficiency."

The detective was getting even angrier. Finally fed up, he pulled his gun out and pointed it at the agent in front of him. "Ok, you have three seconds—"

Without missing a beat, Jethro knocked the man's arm away and dropped him on his back. He maneuvered the gun so it was pointed at the cop's face.

The barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of Jethro's head. He slowly pulled away from the detective he was lying on. He looked to the side and saw Burley stopped dead in his tracks only a few feet away from him. "I wouldn't if I were you." A man with a grainy voice said above him.

He felt lips near his ear as the man over him whispered to him. "I'd think twice before assaulting a detective in a room full of cops." The gun was pulled away and the man climbed off of him. Jethro rose to his feet and turned around.

The man had his badge on a string around his neck. If Jethro thought the first detective was attractive, he was nothing compared to this guy. He too had brown hair and tan skin--although on him it looked more from so much time in the sun, the first guy gave him a mediterranean feel--and about just as tall. He had one gun still trained on Jethro, while the other was pointed at Burley's chest.

The cop that Jethro tackled rose to his feet and stood behind the other man. "You ok there, loser?" The one with the guns asked.

The _loser _straightened his tie. "I had everything under control."

"Yeah, I could see that."

"Hey!" Jethro shouted. "Just who the hell are you, and why the hell are you pointing a gun at my head?"

The man with the grainy voice smiled. "I'm Detective Anthony DiNozzo, this is my partner, Dennis Morgan. I'm lead detective on this case, and you're interfering on my crime scene."

* * *

**Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think! Please? I'd greatly appreciate it.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Ok, so I'm thinking of making Monday my update days. It's nice, it's consistant, and it gives me a whole week to write new chapters. Just so all of you know, I'm on chapter five with the actual writing, so I'll be good for the next couple of weeks. Oh, and I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, or added this story to their favorites or alert list. I am proud to say that at this time, Slaughter House has set a personal record for me with the most Story Alerts of any of my other stories. Topping the charts at a whopping 41 alerts! So again, thank you all for showing such a great interest in my story, and I hope I don't let you down!

One last thing, in this chapter, the POV starts to shift. It's still in third person, but it isn't just from Gibbs' perspective any more. The story will switch a lot through out the rest of the piece, so I'm letting you know now to avoid confusion when you see the shift. You'll be able to tell who's point of view the section is in based on their names. In Gibbs' POV, the names will read as: Gibbs: **Jethro**, Tony: **DiNozzo**, Detective Morgan: **Morgan**. In Tony's POV: Gibbs: **Gibbs**, Tony: **Tony**, Detective Morgan: **Denny**. And in Tony's partner's POV (Yes, he gets his own sections): Gibbs: **Gibbs**, Tony: **Tony**, Detective Morgan: **Dennis**. I'll shut up now and let you enjoy the story.

* * *

**Two**

Jethro followed Detectives Morgan and DiNozzo outside and away from the scene. He heard the two arguing ahead of him.

"He's trying to take over the case!" Morgan shouted.

"I don't care!" DiNozzo shouted, pointing a finger at his partner. "You _never_ point a damn gun at a fed! Damn it, Den, get your head on straight!" The two men turned around to look at Jethro. DiNozzo was smiling, albeit it was completely fake. Morgan, on the other hand, had no problem showing his contempt for the federal agent. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." He didn't bother with the badge this time.

DiNozzo nodded. "You're here for the Marine?"

Jethro nodded. "Marine makes it an NCIS investigation." DiNozzo stepped closer, his smile becoming more genuine.

"Yeah, see, here's the things. The case happened in _Baltimore_, in a _Baltimore _shoe store, with three _Baltimore _residents as victims. Add it up, it sounds like a case for _Baltimore_ homicide." Jethro stared at the younger man. He was young, probably no older than thirty. The clothes he wore suggested that he came from money. And damn was he cocky.

"You even old enough to lead a case, Detective?"

"Apparently. Because I have been for the last four months." His smile grew bigger. Behind him, his partner seethed.

Jethro chuckled. "That long, huh?"

DiNozzo shrugged again. "Gotta start somewhere, right?" He put his hands in his front pockets and casually leaned back. Jethro was impressed. With Detective Morgan, Jethro was able to piss him off within seconds of opening his mouth. But it was pretty clear that his partner wasn't as easily intimidated. The kid had balls, he'd give him that.

"I'm not giving up on this, you should know that." He kept his voice level and quiet. According to Burley, that was sometimes scarier than when he shouted. He even added in a bit of a glare to it.

But the kid just shrugged again. "Well I'm not giving you my crime scene, so I guess we're both SOL, huh?" Jethro couldn't stop the grin from forming on his lips. It seemed as though they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, but Jethro wasn't mad about it. DiNozzo was impressive. He didn't know how his investigative skills were, but considering he was probably only about thirty and already a lead detective, that said something.

He nodded before he spoke again. "What would you say to a joint investigation?"

"Hell no!" Morgan shouted from behind his partner.

"Detective Morgan!" DiNozzo shouted, not taking his eyes off of Jethro. He finally turned around and moved closer to his partner. Jethro watched, but was unable to make out the conversation.

*~*

Dennis was seething. This bastard just decides to walk into their crime scene and take it over because he had a fancier job title? That was enough to piss Dennis off, but that Tony was just letting him!

Tony grabbed his arm and steered him out of the agent's earshot. He spun Dennis around and glared at him. He never raised his voice over a whisper. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Dennis followed suit and remained relatively quiet. "You can't possibly be thinking of agreeing to this!"

"Joint investigation is better than him taking over the case." Dennis rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Don't be dense, Tony! Saying it's a joint investigation is just a nicer way of saying 'I'm taking over your case, stick it!'" Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We don't have to let him work this case at all. He shouldn't get three civilians just because there's one damn Marine!"

"I don't like this anymore than you do, but I would rather _not_ piss off the guy who's higher up of the law enforcement food chain."

"But—"

"We are on thin ice as it is, do you wanna make it worse?" Dennis was silent. He was still angry, and he wanted to argue, but Tony was right. They were on thin ice.

It wasn't that they were bad cops. They weren't. In fact, the reason that Tony was made a lead detective was because their record was impeccable. Their close rate was ninety-four percent, which wasn't bad considering their ages. Dennis had just turned thirty while Tony was still only twenty-nine. By all accounts they shouldn't even be detectives, and if it hadn't been for that incident last year, they wouldn't be. Coincidentally, that incident was also the reason they were on thin ice. Well that, and their history in other cities.

"Alright fine," he finally seceded. "Do whatever the hell you want." He sounded petulant, even to his own ears. But he didn't really care. He didn't like Special Agent Gibbs. And he sure as hell wasn't going to like working with him.

Tony sighed heavily. "Den, he has a whole team. Alright, five heads are a helluva lot better than two." He patted Dennis on the shoulder before moving back to talk to Agent Gibbs. Dennis' skin was left tingling from the contact.

*~*

Jethro smiled to himself. It looked like he won. He may not get the case, but a joint investigation was better than nothing. Besides, every time he did a joint case, his team was always the ones actually working it. All he had to do was promise to give the credit over to Baltimore, and the case was his.

DiNozzo had that stupid damn smile plastered on his face again. It was still fake, but it had an essence of a real one hidden beneath the surface. "What are the conditions for a joint investigation?" Jethro smiled again.

"My ME does the Autopsy."

"You can have the Marine, our ME will take the civs."

"How about we get two, you get two."

"Deal." DiNozzo didn't pull his gaze away from the older man. They were locked in a childish staring contest that neither one was willing to break. Jethro knew it was immature, but he didn't really care. He wasn't going to appear weak in front of a child. "Anything else?"

"All forensics go to NCIS."

"I want a tech from Baltimore there to assist."

"Abby won't like that."

"This is my case as much as it's yours, Agent Gibbs. And I'm not comfortable with a complete stranger going over all of my evidence." The smile faded a little around the edges, but a grin was still there. Jethro noticed that the fake amusement was what left. DiNozzo was actually enjoying this.

He nodded. "Fine." He paused a second before making his final condition. "I lead."

"Not a chance."

"I have more experience than you do."

"I know the city better."

"I'm older and a better investigator." Jethro was grateful his team wasn't here to watch him settle into this kind of argument.

"Age only means better in wine, Agent Gibbs." Jethro stepped into DiNozzo's personal space. To his surprise, he didn't back down. He just kept grinning. "But if you really want to go down that line of arguing, I'm taller and better looking." Jethro was five seconds away from smacking him in the back of the head.

The only thing that stopped him was Detective Morgan coming to join the fray. "How about you both lead? You compromised on everything else, why not on this too?" Jethro glared at the young man. He wasn't particularly fond of him. But he did have a point. And it might be the only way they would be able to work together.

He shrugged. "I can deal with that."

DiNozzo leveled him with a glare of his own. It wasn't as scary as Jethro's, but not bad, all things considered. "Alright. But who gets the credit?"

Jethro didn't even hesitate. "You do."

Morgan seemed pleased with that statement, as he said something very similar. DiNozzo, however, didn't seem as pleased. Something was apparently bothering him. Jethro couldn't be sure just yet. But he was going to find out.

Finally the young man spoke. "Fine." He held out his hand. Jethro shook it to solidify their agreement.

"So, tell me what we've got." DiNozzo's smile brightened again.

* * *

So, what do you guys think? Let me know if you like it, it'll make me happy, and possibly reconsider my once a week update decision.


	4. Chapter 3

**Ok, I have a feeling I am going to seriously regret this, but I have up to chapter six pretty much written, and I'm getting a little bored waiting, so I decided to post this early. DO NOT GET USED TO IT! I'm doing good with writing every day, but with the holidays coming up, I may not always have time. **

**Well, I hope you enjoy this update, I enjoyed writing it. Well, ok, I like writing all situations between Gibbs and Tony. It's pretty amusing, I gotta say. Well, I will shut up, so you can enjoy the story!**

**Three**

Tony led the way back inside the shoe store. The agent he pointed his gun at glared at him. Older guy—but Tony was still relatively young in cop years—with blonde hair. He looked pissed. Tony really couldn't blame him. He figured he'd get over it eventually.

"Four victims, one identified by his dog tags as a Corporal Kellan Hawthorne." He pointed at the body furthest from the door. What little hair he had was a dirty blond, or a light brown. He was tall, muscular. His clothes were torn and covered in blood. "The little guy over there." Tony pointed at another guy. He too was covered in blood, except his hair was much longer, wavy and light blonde. "Is Kyle Daxon. Our witness, John Cole, was Daxon's roommate. He came here for a booty call. Literally fell through the door, landed on John Doe # 232."

Agent Gibbs stared at him like he was insane. Tony shrugged. "Lot of John Does in Baltimore." The older fed nodded. "According to Cole, he has no idea who the other two are, and there was no I.D." Gibbs, who had been staring at John Doe # 232, jerked his head up.

"You touched the body?" He yelled. If Tony was easily frightened, he would have jumped. Denny did behind him.

"No, our M.E. did." He smiled again, although he was getting frustrated. "He had the decency to get here on time." Gibbs stood up, glaring. Tony assumed that was his favored expression.

"Where the hell is he now?"

Tony's lids lowered in his favored intimidating look. The smile was still there, but as Denny liked to say, it was his 'danger grin.' It was a look that said 'I'll kill you and I'll enjoy it.' Although when Denny first told him that he wanted to slug him. "Outside, arranging for more cars to bring the bodies back to his lab. The older gentleman, surely you must have passed him when you came barging in here." Gibbs was silent. His eyes darted around, like he knew he was wrong, but he'd never admit to it. Tony's smile widened. He turned away and looked at John Doe # 233. "Curious thing though. Corporal Hawthorne was the only one with any form of I.D. on him. And that was his dog tags." He stopped and turned back to Agent Gibbs. "Everything else was taken."

Gibbs looked down at Corporal Hawthorne. There was a look of pain on his face. Tony assumed that Gibbs was military. Probably Marines or Navy, considering his job. He wasn't sure, but it did explain a lot of his anger and grunts. "He wanted NCIS to investigate." He spoke so quietly, Tony could barely hear him.

"Maybe. Any ideas why?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah." But he didn't say any more. Tony waited for him to elaborate, but he never did.

He rolled his eyes and was about to continue when he heard something from outside. "I told you left! You should know by now that means right!" The voice was male, with a very strong English accent. It sounded like an older man, but Tony couldn't really be sure.

A shorter gentleman with glasses, wearing a blue jumpsuit walked under the caution tape, carrying a black case. Tony was right, he was older. "Sorry doctor," said the man who walked in after him. He was dressed the same way, except he couldn't have been more different. He was tall, black, and still pretty young. They were an interesting pair, Tony thought.

"I'm sorry we're late Jethro. Gerald got us lost again." Tony turned to look at Gibbs with a raised eyebrow.

"Jethro?" Gibbs glared. "Right, none of my business." But he still couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

The short man suddenly appeared right in front of him. Tony almost jumped out of his skin as the old man looked him over. "And who might you be?"

Tony took a step back. "Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide."

"Ah," The short man lost his skeptical glare. "Dr. Donald Mallard, the NCIS medical examiner." He held out his hand for the detective to take. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Tony hesitated before he took the hand and shook it. "Now." Dr. Mallard pulled his hand away and surveyed the scene. "My my. Such a tragedy. Well, Gerald, let's get to work." He knelt down next to John Doe #232, who was closest to the door.

"Um, actually Dr. Mallard," Denny started, a little nervously. "Our ME was already through here." Dr. Mallard glanced accusingly at the other cop. He held up his hands in a defeated gesture. "Detective Dennis Morgan. Tony's partner." Dr. Mallard nodded, but otherwise didn't acknowledge Denny.

"Another medical examiner already told you time of death?" He was looking directly at Tony. He was a little confused about that.

Still, he nodded. "Yeah, he said all four victims died around the same time, between five and seven this evening. Cause of death looked like blunt force trauma on John Doe # 232 and Corporal Hawthorne—"

"John Doe 232?" Dr. Mallard asked, slightly appalled. Tony turned to Gibbs for help on that one. For some odd reason that he couldn't quite place, he was more afraid of the elderly physician than of Agent Gibbs, who seemed to ooze danger from every pore. It could be that Dr. Mallard reminded Tony of his grandfather. He could never offend his grandfather. And for the last year, Tony didn't really find dangerous men all that terrifying.

Gibbs shrugged. "Apparently, there's a lot of John Does in Baltimore."

Dr. Mallard shook his head. "Ah, well, that's a pity." He slowly rose to his feet. "There really is no excuse for so many unidentified victims. It really all just comes down to sheer laziness." Tony felt his anger boil at the doctor's words, but he refrained from saying anything. If this was going to work, he had to at least try and be civil.

Denny, however, didn't feel the same way. "Or maybe local cops get more of a case load than say, NCIS."

Everyone spoke at once at that point.

"I beg your pardon young man—"

"Who the hell do you think you are talking to my ME like that—"

"Detective Morgan!" Tony shouted. His voice drowned out all others. Denny turned to him, still red in the face. Tony gave him a warning glare, one that said 'you say one more word and I'm hacking you to bits.' Denny was silent. Tony turned back to Dr. Mallard. "I'm sorry about that, doctor. It's been a long night." He turned to his partner, daring him to contradict him. With his jaw clenched and his breathing heavy, Denny stormed out of the store. Nobody tried to stop him.

"As I was saying earlier," Tony started again as if that entire argument didn't happen. "Corporal Hawthorne and John Doe # 232 were killed by blunt force trauma, at this time weapon unknown. John Doe # 233 and Kyle Daxon appeared to have been stabbed to death. But we can't be certain until the autopsy."

Dr. Mallard listened intently, staring at the different bodies. After Tony was finished, he spoke. "Why do only two of the men have names, while the other two don't?"

"Corporal Hawthorne still had his dog tags, he was the only one with any I.D. Daxon was identified by our witness, John Cole, says he's Daxon's roommate. He also said that he didn't know the other two men."

"You touched the bodies?" Tony almost groaned at the question. Dr. Mallard was the second person from NCIS to ask him that. These people really didn't trust his investigative skills.

"Dr. Baxley did after his initial testing." He planted on his brightest fake smile he could find. He wanted these people to think they weren't getting to him. Even though they were, he had more control than Denny did.

"Baxley? As in Raymond Baxley?" Dr. Mallard asked, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Well, that's good to hear. Raymond Baxley is a fine medical examiner."

Tony shrugged. "I like to think so." Mallard hummed.

"Well, it's good to know that at least these bodies are in good hands, but I am rather curious, Jethro." The elderly gentleman finally turned to Gibbs. "Why did you call me out of bed?" Tony switched his gaze to the fed, a sparkle in his eye.

"You wanna tell him, while I go tell Baxley?" Gibbs didn't say anything, didn't even nod. Tony took that to mean 'yes' in Gibbs speak. Or possibly NCIS speak, he wasn't entire sure just yet.

Without sparing the bodies a glance, he ducked under the yellow caution tape into the brisk chilly night air. It wasn't really cold out, not as cold as Philly could get, but it was still chilly for Maryland weather.

Denny paced underneath a streetlamp with Baxley. He looked agitated—go figure—while Baxley appeared to be trying to console him. It looked like it was failing.

With a heavy sigh, Tony moved to talk to his partner. "I hope Detective Morgan shared with you the details of the situation, doctor." Tony said after he was close enough. The two men turned to face him.

"Yes he did, detective. And I would be more than willing to comply. I've heard of Dr. Mallard, he's a bit of a legend in the medical examining world." Tony smiled his thanks.

Baxley was a bald middle aged man with a rather thick brown mustache. He always reminded the young detective of those nineteen twenties muscle guys, although Baxley's girth was caused by one too many jelly filled donuts, not hours and hours of weightlifting and acrobatics.

Awkward silence filled the night. Tony glared at Denny, while Denny glared right back. Baxley, either feeling left out of the glaring contest or realizing there were issues between the partners, took the hint and escaped to the solace of waiting for more cars to arrive to cart the bodies away. After he disappeared from sight, Tony stepped into his partner's personal space.

"Is this case going to be a problem, Detective?"

Denny rolled his eyes. "Stop treating me like a subordinate, Tony, we're alone." Tony ran a hand down his face.

"What the hell is your problem tonight? You've been acting like a bitch on the rag ever since I picked you up."

"Maybe I was having a bad night, and having some goddamn federal navy cop show up and treat me like dirt didn't help."

"I don't give a shit if your grandmother was just hit by his stupid ugly truck, you don't act that way around other departments. Den, try and think with your head for once. You and I are still really damn young."

"That doesn't mean anything, we have the best record in the entire unit!"

"Yeah, and that means something to the unit, and to the captain, but to other cops, we're just a bunch of white shields who got promoted before we can grow a damn beard. We have to be on our toes around other departments, and federal agencies. How do you think it's gonna look on the captain, the unit in general, if word gets back that you've been acting like a petulant toddler all night? How's the captain gonna take hearing that you pulled a gun on a fed?"

"How come all you can focus on is what I did wrong? Why does he get away scot free? He attacked me, he insulted us. He just came in and stole _our_ crime scene, and you let him!"

"You may not agree with my decision, but there's no doubt in my mind that I made the right call. Gibbs and his team were going to investigate this case whether we wanted them to or not. At least this way, we can keep an eye on them." Denny was quiet again as he absorbed everything that Tony just told him. Tony stepped closer, his anger subsiding. "Look, Den, I'll be honest with you. I don't really trust Gibbs either, and I wanted to slug Mallard for his crack about laziness."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because I kind of like Baltimore, and I'm not gonna throw away my career over some old timer. Den, with a joint investigation, we will know everything that they do. With Gibbs and I sharing lead, he can't do anything without telling me first."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Tony smiled. "Exactly. You're not as dumb as you look sometimes, Morgan." Denny finally cracked a smile and he pushed his partner in the shoulder. Tony stumbled back a foot, laughing. "Now come on, let's finish processing the scene, so we can go back to bed."

"Now that sounds like a plan."

*~*

Jethro and Dr. Mallard, or _Ducky_ as he preferred stood at the back door of the shop, watching the exchange between Detectives Morgan and DiNozzo, though they couldn't hear a word of it.

Ducky turned to Jethro, obvious concern written all over his weathered face. "Are you entirely sure about this Jethro?"

Jethro shook his head. "Not even remotely. DiNozzo seems more arrogant and cocky than Burley, and I don't trust Morgan as far as I can throw him."

"So why agree to the joint investigation?" Jethro turned to his friend and smiled. It was evil and held a secret agenda beneath its surface.

"So I can keep an eye on them. There's no way those two managed to climb up the ranks legitimately. I wanna find out what they know."

A look of understanding graced the medical examiner's face. "Ah. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Jethro turned back to the two cops. They were smiling and heading in their direction. "Tell Burley I want him to keep an eye on Morgan. Whatever that man does, I want him to report it back to me."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Same thing with DiNozzo." The man in question caught Jethro's eye and held it as he moved closer. There was something there, Jethro was sure of it. And you could damn well bet that he was going to find out what.

* * *

**Well, I would like to thank everyone who has put this story on their story alerts, and especially to everyone who reviewed. So, if you want to continue to have early updates, I would suggest reviewing more. They make me happy. And a happy Bob updates sooner!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Boy, I tell you guys that reviews make me happy, and last chapter I had 31 reviews! Thirty-one! So, I would like to take this time to thank you all for reviewing and telling me how much you like my story, I greatly appreciate it and I love you all!**

**One little comment. The last chapter there was a review about Tony meeting Burley. So, just to clarify, I know that it sounded like the two never met on the show, but Burley and Langer were the only ones of Gibbs' old team that I had heard of, so I used those two. It's AU, but in my defense, it had been quite a few years, so it is possible that they didn't remember each other in that time. Or I was just lazy and didn't want to make up completely new characters in a story full of OCs. Your choice. **

**One more comment. All of my cop info I have, I get from Law and Order. I also noticed that there are things on Law and Order that aren't on NCIS, you'll see what I'm talking about as the story goes on, but I apologize for any wrong information. Well, now, chapter 4! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Four**

"You did what?" Captain Carnec shouted at Tony from behind his desk.

Unfortunately, Tony was wrong about the sleep thing. After his talk with Denny, Gibbs kept him busy going over everything that the Unies already did. When Tony questioned him about it, Gibbs said to him, "Rule three, never believe what you're told. Always double check." At that point, Tony couldn't blame Denny for wanting to shoot him.

"Just what the hell were you thinking DiNozzo?" Carnec asked, this time a little quieter, although by no means calmer.

Tony stared straight ahead and tried to appear confidant. "I thought that working with NCIS was the better option."

"Do you need help on this investigation, Tony?" That was a loaded question, and Tony knew it. Carnec wanted to make sure he didn't make a mistake when he made Tony a lead detective. If he needed federal help to solve a quadruple homicide, maybe he wasn't cut out for the job.

Tony swallowed back any angry words he was thinking. "No sir. But from my initial understanding of Agent Gibbs, I don't think he would have backed down from the case. He would have just gone behind my back. This way feels less insulting."

Carnec pushed away from his desk and moved around it. He stood within inches of Tony's face. He was a shorter man, his hair—what was left of it—was completely gray. "So, you went behind _my_ back and made an agreement with a fed, to keep your feelings from getting hurt."

"Cap, I understand that you're mad, but I gotta say in all seriousness, I made the right call. Federal Agencies have access to things that we don't." He paused and finally turned to face his boss. He still looked livid. "We're getting the credit, if that helps."

"Yeah, and how much did you have to beg to get that?" Tony glared.

"I didn't. Special Agent Gibbs offered."

Carnec chuckled. "Of course he did." He moved back behind his desk. Leaving Tony completely confused.

"Cap, this is one helluva case, it doesn't make sense to me why he would give up the credit. If we make an arrest—"

"And if this case goes south, we're stuck with the liability. He gets away clean, while we're stuck cleaning up the mess." Tony's stomach churned. He hadn't thought of that.

"Sir, if this goes badly, I will take full responsibility."

"You're damn right DiNozzo!" Carnec sighed heavily and sat down. He leaned against his desk, with his hands up by his mouth. "Tony, I know that you are a good cop. Hell you're a great cop."

The corner of Tony's mouth quirked up. "Thank you sir."

"But you are also young. The brass' been on my case for the past year. They aren't gonna be happy about this. They aren't exactly fond of NCIS, Tony." Tony met his boss' gaze, demanding him to get to his point. "If this case goes sour, it won't just be a slap on the wrist. They will take your badge. Probably your partner's too." Tony's heart stopped beating, the blood drained from his face and his jaw fell to the floor. "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to help you."

It took him a second, but he finally managed to compose himself. "So, what you're saying is, don't screw up." Carnec cracked a smile and nodded. "Got it." He turned to leave.

"I'm not done yet, DiNozzo." He almost groaned aloud. Now what?

He turned around, too damn tired to hide his annoyance. Carnec stood up and crossed to him again. "According to Officer Hanson, both you and Dennis pulled your gun on Agent Gibbs."

Tony worked his jaw as he pondered how to answer that. Finally, he decided that the truth might be his best option. He relayed all of the details back to the captain from the moment he walked back into the store after chatting with CSU about the particulars of the case. Carnec listened patiently for him to finish.

"I want you to talk to the shrink again."

"Cap—" He tried to argue before Carnec cut him off.

"I believe you, Tony. But let's face it, you haven't exactly been the same since last year. And with the anniversary comin' up." Tony turned away, he didn't want his captain and his friend to see the emotion in his eyes. "Nobody expects you to just get over this Tony. No one ever does."

Tony moved his gaze back up to Carnec's face. "Did you?" Carnec chuckled before turning around again.

"Severe liver damage and years in A.A. sort of made me." He met his detective's eyes again. "Still haunts me sometimes." Tony nodded.

"Thanks Cap." He turned and started heading out the door again when Carnec spoke.

"I'll call Dr. Jovier, have him do the eval."

Tony turned back, confused again. "What happened to Setley?"

Carnec shrugged. "Nothing, but contrary to popular belief, sex isn't good therapy DiNozzo." He gave the young man a knowing look. Tony just smiled. The last time he needed a psych evaluation was when he made lead detective. Dr. Amelia Setley spent fifteen minutes trying to get him to talk about last year's incident, and the next forty-five minutes screaming his name in ecstasy as he fucked her brains out. She passed him with flying colors.

When he stepped out of the office, Tony noticed that Dennis had commandeered the entire coffee pot for himself, and he had four large take-out cups in front of him. Agent Burley, the cop that Tony pointed his second gun at back at the shop, was staring over his shoulder. Agent Gibbs had his eyes trained on the bulletin board with the pictures of the victims and the crime scene on it. Tony chose to stand next to him. The older man didn't take his eyes off the board as he approached.

"Figure out the case, yet?" He asked, grinning broadly. He was still thinking about Dr. Setley. That woman certainly had a way with words.

Gibbs scrunched up his face in annoyance. "What, I gotta do all the work?"

"Well, what were you doing while I was with my captain?"

"Waiting." Tony arched an eyebrow. "My team wasn't allowed to use any of your computers, and you were taking your sweet time with your boss, so all I've had to rely on was your partner."

"The partner has a name!" Denny grumbled. The other men barely spared him a glance.

"According to CSU, the bodies were dragged into the store after they were killed," said Tony. "Not enough blood spatter for it to be our actual scene."

"They find anything to tell us where the crime happened?" Gibbs asked.

Tony shrugged. "If there's anything, it's gonna be on the bodies, I haven't heard anything from Baxley yet, but since it's only been about three hours, I figured I'd give him some leeway."

"Four people were brutally murdered last night. Cases like this don't deserve leeway." Tony rolled his eyes at the older man's words.

"You always like this?" He turned to the other two agents. "He always like this?" Burley and Langer looked at him strangely, as if they couldn't believe someone so young could be talking like that to Gibbs.

"Usually." Burley finally said.

"Mail call!" Came a shout from the entrance of the pen. Tony turned, bright smile plastered on his face. Sasha strolled in, pushing the mail cart. She caught his eye and smiled seductively. That earned him a few looks from the feds, but he really didn't care.

"Hey Tony." Sasha said as she made her way over to him. She completely ignored everyone else in the room as she did. "How have you been?"

"Better now." She giggled. Sasha was a beautiful woman with light brown skin and matching eyes. Her lips were full and extra shiny today. Her eyes roamed over his body as she pulled out a small stack of mail. She leaned over particularly far to give him a better view of her backside. Tony couldn't deny, the woman had a very nice ass.

"Here." She said, handing him the stack. "Same time tomorrow?"

"You know where to find me." She giggled again as she tossed Denny's mail on his desk. It knocked over one of his coffee cups, but she didn't seem to notice. She left to hand out everyone else's mail.

"That happen often?" Burley asked, his eyes glued to Sasha's back.

"Only every day." Denny answered as he wiped up the spilled coffee. Tony was in too good of a mood to help.

But his mood shifted as he saw the return address on one of his letters. He tried to remain neutral and not give anything away as he tore the envelope to pieces. "What's that?" Denny asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing, just junk mail." He threw the pieces away before rejoining Gibbs at the bulletin board. The older man didn't seem to notice anything. He started on about the case again as if nothing happened. "I figure we do a canvas around the store, see if anybody saw anything."

"But if that's not where the crime actually happened," Langer started. "Why bother doing a canvas?"

Denny laughed. "The killer had to bring the vics into the store at some point. Most likely someone saw or heard something." He laughed again. "And people say I'm young and dumb."

"Den." Tony said exasperated. Denny stopped laughing. Tony sighed. "Go up to the crib."

Denny's eyebrows crunched together in anger. "You kidding me? I'm fine!"

"You're exhausted. Go, get a half an hour. I'll come get you if I need you." Denny stared at Tony for a bit. He still looked angry, but the deep purple under his eyes showed the younger man just how tired he really was. With a quick nod of his head, he jumped up and headed up the stairs, leaving Tony with the three feds.

"Crib?" Agent Langer asked.

"Yeah," Tony started, pointing towards the upper level of the squad room. "Room upstairs, bunch of bunks in case we need to get some shut eye while on a case." He moved to sit down at his desk.

"That happen often?" Gibbs asked, finally taking his eyes off the bulletin board.

"Probably more often than at NCIS." He booted up his computer, ignoring the scoffs from the feds. "So, canvas?" He met Gibbs eyes for a brief moment before he turned to Langer.

"Head back to the yard. Get Corporal Hawthorne's records. As soon as Ducky finds anything about the deaths, you call me." His tone was hard, giving no way to weasel out of the demand. Langer didn't try and argue, he just nodded his head and left the room. Gibbs turned to Burley. "You stay here."

Burley didn't look happy by that prospect. "And do what?"

"Wait until Morgan wakes up. When that happens, go check out Baxley, see if he's gotten anywhere on the John Doe." Burley still didn't look happy, but he didn't argue anymore. Tony got the impression that he was afraid of his boss. Tony really couldn't blame him. Gibbs was an intimidating son of a bitch. He wouldn't want to work for him.

Gibbs finally turned to Tony. "You coming, or are you just gonna sit there?"

Tony's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You want just the two of us to cover the entire canvas?" That would take days. There were a lot of stores, a lot of apartments, and a lot of people.

"That a problem?" His glare dared Tony to come up with one.

Tony wasn't one for backing out of a dare. "Well, I don't know about you, but I actually like to have a life every once in a while." Still, he jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket. Gibbs was already halfway out the door by the time he caught up with him.

"You actually have time to have a life?"

"With other people? No, but I have gotten really close to Gary Grant and Bruce Willis."

"Who?"

Tony almost stopped dead in his tracks. "Please tell me you're kidding." Gibbs didn't say anything. "Do you even own a TV?"

Gibbs nodded. "One."

"Just one?"

They walked out of the building. "In my basement." The old man turned towards Tony's car. "I'm driving!" Tony stopped and stared after him. He tried to find an adequate word to describe Agent Gibbs, but so far, couldn't think of one.

* * *

**Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, this was probably one of my favorite chapters so far. And again, a happy Bob updates faster! So if you want me to keep updating every other day, keep reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Merry Christmas everyone! And since it's Christmas Eve, I figured I'd give you all a nice present by posting Chapter 5! And even better news? It is insanely long! Really, on my computer, it was like nine pages, and you get a real big taste of the D man. Yes, I reallly just said that, yes I regret it greatly, and no I'm not deleting it. Happy Holidays everyone! Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Five**

Three hours after they started the canvas, they hadn't made any headway. Only about of a quarter of the area was done, and Jethro swore that the next person who slammed a door on his face was getting his boot so far up his ass he'd be tasting rubber.

DiNozzo looked exhausted. The call to Jethro came in around three in the morning, most likely even earlier for the young detective. And the agent hadn't really given him a chance to get any sleep since then. And now they were walking over a two mile radius around G's Discount Shoe Warehouse to find anything that related to their case.

They knocked on the next door. It was an apartment building right across the street from the crime scene, and they were on the second floor. The two men waited patiently for someone to answer. DiNozzo leaned against the doorframe and rubbed at his tired eyes. Jethro stood rigidly while his eyes lost focus on the number on the door.

The door swung open, jerking both men back to reality. Standing there was a young woman, probably no older than twenty. She was absolutely stunning, blonde hair, big bright blue eyes. If she were smiling, she'd be gorgeous. Unfortunately, she was scowling.

"Yeah?" She asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

Jethro pulled out his I.D. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, this is Detective DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide. We'd like to ask you a couple questions."

"Did I do something wrong?" She crossed her arms over her full chest.

Jethro shook his head. "No, but there was a crime that occurred across the street, we just wanted to know if you saw anything."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I have things I have to do, I don't have time for this." She made to slam the door on their faces. Jethro reached for his gun, fully intending to shoot this woman if she did.

DiNozzo's arm reached out and stopped the heavy wood from closing. He smiled flirtatiously at her. "Hey, what's your name?"

The girl looked him up and down, her scowl turning into a slight grin. "Gina."

"Of course it is." He pushed the door open and leaned against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest. Jethro stood back and studied the younger man. The position was very relaxed and—he couldn't believe he was even thinking this—slightly sexy. Gina seemed to appreciate it. "Look, I understand that you're incredibly busy, and having two cops show up at your door probably isn't how you planned on spending your morning."

Gina shrugged. "It's not that bad." Her eyes roamed over DiNozzo's body. Jethro rolled his eyes and stepped back. Gina sighed in fake annoyance. "I guess I could help you out."

"I'd be very appreciative." Jethro jerked his head up. DiNozzo pulled out a small pocket notebook and flipped it open. "Were you home, last night between nine and three?"

Gina nodded, leaving Jethro stunned. "Yeah, well, no. I, I was home at nine, but at about eleven I went to get ice cream. I got back, probably about eleven forty-five." DiNozzo nodded.

"And in that time, did you see or hear anything on the street?"

Gina smiled. "I saw a lot of things last night. Anything specific?"

DiNozzo chuckled. Jethro blinked. "At or around the Discount Show Warehouse, did you see or hear anybody going in or out last night after it had closed?" Gina turned her eyes upward in contemplation.

She tensed up a little and looked back at DiNozzo. "When I was coming home from the ice cream parlor, I saw a van parked outside the store. I didn't think anything of it." She turned to Jethro and shrugged. "People go in and out of that place all the time." She turned back to DiNozzo. He scribbled something down in his notebook, probably what she told him.

"Right, and can you tell me anything about the van? Make, model, color?"

Gina closed her eyes in thought, but after a moment she shook her head. "Sorry no. It was late." DiNozzo nodded.

"Can we step inside for a bit? I wanna try something real quick." Gina smiled again, probably thinking a lot of dirty thoughts about the cop in front of her. Jethro rolled his eyes.

"Just the two of us?"

DiNozzo turned to look at the other man. "Do you mind? I'll be quick." Jethro glared, but he didn't say anything. It was his way of saying 'no chance in hell are you leaving me out here alone!' But DiNozzo turned back to Gina, smiling again. "It'll be ok." Jethro almost punched him.

Gina stepped back and pulled the door open wider. "DiNozzo!" Jethro hissed as he crossed over the threshold. The younger man turned to look at him with a deer in the headlights look. "Don't you have sex with that witness!"

DiNozzo smiled. "Wasn't planning on it, Gibbs." He quietly shut the door behind him. Leaving Jethro out in the hallway alone.

He decided then and there that he was going to shoot the young man. Blow his brains out and take the case for NCIS. Detective Morgan might be a problem, Jethro sensed that the two of them were very close, like friends outside of work kind of close. He supposed he could just shoot him too. Abby could help him get rid of the evidence. She'd help him, she loved him.

He sat down across the hall and started planning out the murder. He couldn't kill him here, there'd be too many witnesses. And Gina would probably try and kill him too, she seemed to really like him. He could kill her too, but at this point things were getting really messy. He couldn't exactly go around killing everyone in the building. Eventually, people would start asking questions.

Maybe he could find DiNozzo's address, shoot him at home. Or take him out into the wilderness, shoot him, leave the remains for a bear. That might work. He'd have to ask Abby the best way to get rid of the body.

It was when he started thinking of a place to shoot DiNozzo that would cause the young man the most pain when the door opened. Jethro looked up to see him walk out into the hallway, Gina close behind. They were both smiling.

"Well, thank you, Gina. You were very, very helpful." He leaned against the frame again, incredibly close to the young woman.

"Oh, it was nothing. I'm just glad I could be of service." The smile she gave him held some serious sexual innuendos.

DiNozzo chuckled, then stood up straighter. "Listen, if you think of anything else," he pulled out a card, "call me. Anytime, day or night."

"Day _or _night?" Her eyebrows shot up her hairline. DiNozzo's smile widened.

"Home phone number's on the back." After a few more pleasantries, Gina quietly shut the door behind him. DiNozzo turned back, still grinning like a maniac, and faced Jethro. The older man just glared at him. DiNozzo's smile faded. "What?"

"I've been out here for the last twenty minutes." Jethro stood up and moved into DiNozzo's personal space. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will kick your ass so hard you won't sit for a month. Got it?" DiNozzo's smile softened but didn't completely fade. Jethro was really getting sick of that look. He turned back and started moving towards the next apartment.

DiNozzo sighed heavily before he spoke. "The van was a Chevy Express, 2000 series, dark blue." Jethro turned back to DiNozzo, a little surprised. The young cop smiled smugly. "One of my many talents. I can usually find ways to get people to remember small details." He chuckled. "This one time, one of my first cases as a detective, I was trying to get an alibi for a man for the murder of his ex girlfriend. But the guy probably had the worst memory of anyone I've ever met. Took me two hours, but I finally got him to remember that he was in an alleyway, convincing his best friend to take a look at the warts on his junk." He laughed again. "That led to a security camera, angled just right. It seriously looked like his friend was going down on him."

"She remember a license plate, DiNozzo?" He wouldn't admit it, but the story was a little amusing. Probably even more so when it actually happened.

"Not the whole thing. Angle, and distance. She got the first three numbers as '268.'" Jethro moved closer to the younger man again.

There were a few things that didn't sit right with him. His gut wasn't necessarily churning, but it wasn't sitting still either. "How did she know what kind of van it was?"

DiNozzo pulled out a sketch of a long square van. It was actually a pretty good picture. "Turns out that Gina is an art student." His eyes glazed over for a second. He groaned. "Very hot." Jethro glared again. DiNozzo shook out of his reverie. "Anyways, after I got her to bring back up the memory, she volunteered to draw me a picture." Jethro turned the picture around a couple of times. His eyes weren't what they used to be, and the angle wasn't exactly the best.

"You figured out the make and model based on this?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "I like cars." Jethro glared at him. DiNozzo's eye's turned to slits. "You like to glare don't you?" They were locked in another staring contest. "Are you gonna tell me good job, or are you gonna kiss me? 'Cause I gotta tell you, at this point," he shrugged and shook his head in a very animated way. "It looks like you could go either way."

Jethro stepped back, trying to hide back his grin. "Are you done, Detective?" He moved to the next door.

"Hey, you hungry?" Jethro stopped right before he knocked. "Well I'm starving. What do you say we take a quick break and get a bite to eat? I know a really great diner not far from here."

Jethro shrugged. "Can we finish this building first, or do you want an excuse to come see Gina again?" DiNozzo just smiled.

"Well you never know, there may be other hot girls around here." Jethro sighed heavily.

*~*

It took them an hour and a half to finish going through the building. Most of the time the door was slammed in their faces, but every once in a while, they met someone who actually wanted to talk to them. DiNozzo managed to get different details from every single one of them. Jethro couldn't deny he was impressed. He couldn't figure it out. He could play the good guy just as well as the bad guy, but he never could have gotten people to un-repress memories like that.

After they stepped back into the fresh air, the two of them hopped in the car and headed for the diner DiNozzo was talking about. It was only about a five minute trip. Jethro let the other man drive since he knew the area better.

They chose to sit at the counter. As soon as they sat down, a middle aged waitress with wild red hair and a speckle of freckles across her cheeks strode up to them. Jethro sat up straighter. He always had a thing for red heads, and she was a nice looking one.

Unfortunately for him, her attention was turned towards DiNozzo. "Hey there boys," her accent sounded Kentucky, a very thick southern drawl. She handed them both a menu. "Can I start you two off with something to drink?"

"I'll have a cup of coffee." He used his gentle voice, hoping to regain her attention. She turned to him long enough to nod before focusing back on DiNozzo. Jethro's blood boiled slightly.

She leaned on the counter, leaving her face only inches from DiNozzo. He smiled, turning the charm on again. "I'll just have Coke, please." She nodded and slowly peeled herself off the linoleum. She _flounced_ away from them.

Jethro shook his head. "How do you do that?" He knew he was going to hate himself for asking, but he couldn't stop himself.

DiNozzo turned to him, eyes wide in shock. "Do what?"

Jethro pointed at the waitress. "Her, Gina. That mail girl."

DiNozzo's eyes glazed over. "Sasha."

Jethro groaned. "Yeah, her. My guy Stan was always a ladies' man but even he can't get reactions like that."

The waitress came back over to them, smiling flirtatiously at DiNozzo. Jethro rolled his eyes. The man was really starting to piss him off. "You boys decide what you want yet?"

"Yeah," said Jethro, exasperated. "I'll have a burger, medium, with extra fries." The waitress pulled out a small notebook and took down his order. Then she turned, brightening, to his dining partner.

"And what can I get you sugar?"

DiNozzo took a quick sip of his drink before he answered. "I'll have the same thing, but with extra cheese on my burger." He winked at her. She blushed.

"I'll have those out to you as soon as I can. And if you need anything, my name is Candy."

"Of course it is." Jethro mumbled under his breath as she slinked away. She couldn't just walk, no, she had to make a show out of it.

DiNozzo grinned at him. "Are you jealous?"

"No." The tone in his voice had a strong hint of finality to it. It usually succeeded in stopping his team in their tracks. Unfortunately for him, DiNozzo wasn't a part of his team, and he didn't give up on things.

"You are, aren't you? Well, I can't really blame you, for an older woman she's definitely a hottie—"

"Don't you think we should be talking about the case?" He was really starting to regret his decision for a joint investigation. He was about to just say to hell with it and head back to D.C. "What have we learned so far?"

DiNozzo took another sip of his Coke. "That there was more than one killer." That detail they got from a flaming homosexual who kept eyeing the young detective like he was picturing him naked. "They used a van to dump the bodies at the store, and a partial license plate that Burley and Denny are running."

Jethro sighed. "Two victims have no I.D."

"One of the victims that does wasn't intentional."

"But Hawthorne was." He stared into space. "Why leave his dog tags? That's asking for NCIS to investigate. Why?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "Maybe someone has a grudge against you. Or someone you work with. Maybe the killer thought NCIS was useless."

"Worse than Baltimore homicide?"

"I have a ninety-four percent close rate."

"I have a hundred."

"In a city plagued with crime, on a two man team where every form of forensic specialist you work with is constantly backed up for at least three weeks with old technology?" Jethro was silent.

"Alright, so you're not too bad, but NCIS is good too. I work with some of the best of any agency. Why would someone want us on their trail?" DiNozzo shrugged.

"Maybe they were trying to throw you off their scent. Hawthorne was the only one they'd know had identification. You'd automatically be looking into him. But what if he wasn't the target? What if he just got caught in the crossfire?"

Just as Jethro started contemplating that possibility, his phone went off. He flicked it open and put it to his ear. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Boss, it's Langer." The younger man sounded bothered by something. Jethro pulled the phone away and stared at it.

"Press the red button." DiNozzo said, looking at him curiously. Jethro glared. "You're looking for speaker, right? It's the red button, on the left." A wave of embarrassment coursed through the older man, but he didn't let it show on his face. At least he hoped he didn't.

He did what he was told, and Langer's voice boomed out of the tiny speaker. "I got a hold of Corporal Hawthorne's records, like you wanted me to."

"What'd you find?"

"Nothing good, Boss. Corporal Hawthorne went UA, almost six months ago." Jethro leaned back in his stool as he absorbed this new information.

"That doesn't make any sense, Brent. Where the hell has he been for the last six months?"

He assumed at this point, Langer shrugged. "Maybe he got tired of being a Marine and deserted. It happens, Boss."

DiNozzo shook his head. "His enlistment was up seven months ago, but he reenlisted almost immediately. Why resign just to desert a month later?" Jethro looked at him questioningly. The younger man smiled. "There is a reason I'm lead detective, Agent Gibbs."

Jethro smiled. "DiNozzo's right, Brent. Hawthorne wasn't a deserter. At least not without good reason."

"Good reason, like what, boss?"

"Maybe he was already dead?" Jethro looked at the man next to him like he was insane. "Well, you die, you can't exactly show up to your post, now can you?"

"I thought your ME said the time of death was sometime between five and seven last night."

They heard Langer scoff in the phone. "A body six months old would show a little more wear there, Detective DiNozzo." DiNozzo glared at the phone.

"About eight months ago, Den and I worked a case of a man who had been killed almost twenty years ago. When we got the body, the ME said he was only dead for three weeks. His body had been frozen, thawed out, and then dumped." He leaned closer to the small bit of technology. "Freezing screws up the time of death, Agent Langer." The other people around the diner stared at the strange man at the counter. He had said the last part rather loudly.

Langer was quiet for a moment. "I could check with Ducky, he might be able to determine the actual time of death."

"Now, hold up, Langer." He turned to the cop. "You were on that scene at three in the morning."

"Three forty-five, actually."

"You gonna tell me that a body that's been frozen for six months thawed that fast?"

"What you never tried to quick thaw chicken Gibbs?" Jethro drew a blank on what that could possibly mean. The look he gave the younger man had a similar message.

It was Langer that answered. "Um, boss, when you want to thaw something quickly, you could, try a microwave, or putting it under hot water for a while." Jethro glared at his phone in thought.

"Talk to Ducky." He paused for a second before he finished. "Oh, and Langer."

"Yeah, Boss?" Jethro stood up and moved to a more secluded spot. He took the call off speaker and put it to his ear.

"I want you to do something for me."

"Look up Detectives Morgan and DiNozzo?" Jethro stopped.

"How did you know I was going to ask that?"

"I anticipated." He could hear the smile in Langer's voice, sending a surge of pride through his body. He kept telling his men to anticipate, they should never waste any time trying to decide what to do next. Apparently, Langer had actually listened.

"You start the search yet?"

"Not yet, I wanted to get info on Corporal Hawthorne first. I'm gonna talk to Ducky and then I'll start."

"No, you start right now. I wanna know in twenty minutes everything I need to know about the cops I'm working with, you understand me?" Silence. "Do you understand, Agent Langer?"

"Yes Boss." He hung up. He turned back around to see DiNozzo on his own phone. He moved quicker, a little curious to know what who he was talking to.

"Yeah, that's great. Thanks Den." He hung up. "Baxley got an I.D. on our second John Doe."

Jethro's eyebrows shot up. "Really? What's his name?"

"Donovan Quail. Age twenty-three. Now here's the kicker," he gave Jethro a look. It wasn't a good look. "He went missing four months ago." Jethro sat back down.

"Our killer saved two bodies for months, just to dump them at the same time?"

DiNozzo chuckled bitterly. "How much do you wanna bet that John Doe # 232 disappeared a few months ago too?"

Jethro sighed. "What the hell kind of psychopath are we dealing with?"

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the extra long chapter. Let me know what you guys thought of it. Reviews give me peace, and give you faster updates. Just remember, you know, a thought.**

**Bob**


	7. Chapter 6

**Well, another chapter from yours truly up. And before the New Year too! Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out before Thursday, but in all honesty that really depends on you guys. I post based on the number of reviews I get. I get a lot, I post faster. Chapter three got _31_ reviews, you had a new chapter in two days time, chapter four got _9_, and you had to wait a week. Really, my lovely readers, reviews boost my ego. Ego boosts make me want more ego boosts, so I tend to post faster! Basic rules of physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Your reviews (action) brings faster updates (reaction). See? Everyone wins! I get my horn touted, and you get my awesome story!**

**I apologize, but I really lack in humility when it comes to my writing talents. I'll shut up now.**

**

* * *

**

Six

Dennis sat at his desk staring at the phone. He had just gotten off the line with Tony and told him the weird news. John Doe # 233 was really Donovan Quail, a grad student who disappeared four months ago. Except it didn't make any sense. Baxley was specific. Quail died around the same time as the others, between five and seven. So where the hell was he for the last four months?

Dennis sighed heavily. Quail was twenty-three. He was the same age as Dennis' half brother. He shuddered at the idea of Harvey being the one on that slab. That was not a thought he wanted to have. He may not always like his dad's second family, but they were still family and he loved them. He couldn't stand it if one of them was hurt.

"He didn't seem surprised when I told him." Dennis said to Stan. After Dennis woke up from his nap, he was surprised to find Agent Burley still in the bullpen. He didn't look happy to be there. Apparently everyone else was gone. Langer drove back to Washington, not a quick trip either, while Gibbs and Tony went off to do a canvas of the neighborhood around the shoe store. That left Stan all by himself in a strange city with nothing to do really except look at gruesome crime scene photos. Dennis took pity on his and gave him the password to Tony's computer. At least now he could get some work done.

"Told who what?" Stan asked, looking up from the monitor.

"Told Tony about Quail. He wasn't surprised when I told him about how long he's been missing. It was like he had expected it." He crossed his arms over his head. Stan gave him a confused puppy look and leaned back in Tony's chair.

"Huh. You think he already knew?"

Dennis scoffed. "Tony's good, but he's not that good." He stared off into space. "He's devious though, if he found out something, he may not exactly share it with me. At least not yet." He looked back up to meet Stan's eye. "He likes to be the center of attention." He almost stopped when he saw the smirk forming on Stan's mouth. "What?"

"Just how close are you to your partner?" Dennis' heart clenched.

"He's my partner."

"I think there's more to than that." He had a look on his face that said he figured out a piece to a puzzle. And Dennis happened to be that puzzle. His arteries started pumping blood faster.

He tried to shrug it off. "He's my friend."

"How good of a friend?" Dennis understood the implication. He was asking if he was a 'friend with benefits.'

Dennis sighed. "He's been my best friend since we were four. We joined the Academy together, and became detectives together. Satisfied?" He hoped he was. He kind of liked Stan, he was a good guy, but he didn't know him enough to trust him with something so personal.

Stan rolled Tony's chair closer. Dennis hated his thoughts. Because he couldn't see that as Stan's chair, despite the fact that he was currently sitting in it. No, it was Tony's chair. And Tony's desk. Tony's computer. All Tony.

Stan moved his face within inches of the other man and studied his expression. Dennis stared back, trying to stay as blank as possible. He thought he was succeeding.

"Does he know?" And apparently he wasn't.

Still, he tried to play dumb. "Does who know what?"

Stan didn't answer. Instead he chuckled and rolled away. "Don't worry Detective Morgan, your secret's safe with me." Dennis breathed a sigh of relief.

"You can call me Dennis." He said with a smile.

*~*

"Yeah, at least three teams." DiNozzo was currently on the phone, trying to get a group of uniformed officers to help with the canvas. Jethro was forced to admit that he may have made a mistake in only going out with just the two of them. At this rate, they wouldn't finish for three days. They just finished eating and were walking back towards the canvas area. The closer they got the more Jehtro realized how much they still had left to cover. "Great, thanks Cap." He hung up.

"The Unies'll be here in about half an hour." He leaned against a nearby building. Jethro looked at him confused.

"Unies?"

"Uniformed officers. Patrol cops? Boys in blue?" Slowly, understanding clicked in Jethro's mind. It was a cop term. "Doesn't NCIS have a name for their rookies?"

Jethro nodded. "Probie."

"Probie?" The younger man asked skeptically.

"Probationary Agent." DiNozzo nodded.

"Probie." He turned his eyes upward in thought. "I like it. I could have fun with that."

"Yeah, I'll bet you could." Jethro stifled a yawn. The coffee at the diner was incredible, but they didn't have take out. And he really needed another cup. He turned away when he saw DiNozzo eyeing him with a cop look.

"How are you supposed to get home tonight?" Jethro turned to the other man like he had gone insane. He shrugged. "You and your boys all drove up together, and last I checked, you sent Langer back to Washington with your truck."

Jethro shrugged. "I'll take a cab."

"That's one helluva long way, Gibbs." He shrugged again. "If you want, I can give you a list of pretty cheap motels. They're decent, not too rundown. And you usually won't find a pro and her john around." Jethro glared. "Or you could sleep in the crib. Thought."

"I like my own bed." He started walking again. DiNozzo followed him.

"Personally I've never really been too picky." Jethro scoffed.

"Yeah, I can imagine. When was the last time you even slept in your own bed?" Silence. He turned to the young man to see him lost in thought. "If you have to think about it, it's been too long."

DiNozzo shook a finger at him. "You know, you may have a point. I should try and return my mattress. I mean I never actually use it, it's really just a waste of money." He paused for a second. "I'm still paying for that damn thing, and I don't even use it!" The last part was said with indignation.

"Maybe you should get a new job, DiNozzo."

"You offering?"

He couldn't take anymore. Jethro reached up and slapped DiNozzo in the back of the head. It wasn't a hard smack, but it was definitely firm. DiNozzo stopped, when Jethro turned to him, he expected to see anger in his face. But the traces of humor were still there. Along with a hint of pain.

"How long did you want to do that?"

Jethro shrugged. "All day." He started walking again. DiNozzo caught up to him easily.

"And if I were to smack you—" He started before he was cut off.

"I would kill you."

DiNozzo _humpfed_. "You smack your team?"

"When they piss me off. You think you could handle that, DiNozzo?"

DiNozzo laughed. "I've gotten in wrestling matches with my partner, fist fights with the other guys on my team, and my captain once smacked me where I got shot. You think I can't handle a headslap?" Jethro turned to him confused.

"Why did your captain hit you where you were shot?"

DiNozzo gave him a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because I got shot."

Jethro was about to comment about how that made no sense when his phone rang again. He checked the I.D. to find it was Langer. He looked down at his watch. It'd been twenty-two minutes.

"You're late." He said when he picked up the call. He moved away from DiNozzo so he couldn't hear the conversation.

"Sorry boss, it took me a while—"

"What'd you find?" He hated listening to excuses. Langer was going to have to remember that.

"Morgan and DiNozzo were made detectives about a year ago. The specifics were sealed, but Captain Carnec jumped through hoops for the promotion. Since then, they've worked about five cases simultaneously every week, of those, only about five have gone cold. They're impressive Boss. I think they could even rival you."

Jethro scoffed. Inside he was reeling. What could have possibly happened to seal that case? If they messed up, they'd be spending the rest of their careers in a patrol car, not leading cases. And if the case went well, why was it sealed?

"Find out anything on the case?" DiNozzo asked behind him. He turned to glare at the younger man, but didn't say anything.

"Brent, you listen to me," He turned back around and spoke quietly into the phone. "I want you to unseal that case, you understand me? I want to know everything about it."

"Got it, Boss."

"But talk to Ducky first. Baltimore already got an I.D. on John Doe 233, I want one on 232 five minutes ago. You got that?" Before Langer could say anything he hung up. He turned back to the detective, leveling him with one of his patented glares. There was something about this guy. And he was going to find out.

"Quick question. Do you, even know how to smile?" Jethro ignored him and started walking again.

"Tomorrow, you and I are heading back to Washington. I wanna look into Hawthorne. He may just be a decoy, but I'm gonna check all my bases, first."

"We're going on a road trip?" DiNozzo sounded happy by that plan. Jethro stopped him with a hardened glance.

"Don't make me regret this decision, DiNozzo. Now about those motels that you know?"

"Yeah." DiNozzo took out his little notebook and started scribbling stuff down. At that point, three different patrol cars pulled up in front of them. Six cops climbed out, two women. One was absolutely gorgeous. Jethro worried about her. The prettier ones tended to be on the dumber side. The other one scared him though. She was built thick, like she didn't take any nonsense from anyone.

DiNozzo turned to them and frowned. Jethro rolled his eyes. "What? She not pretty enough for you?" The younger man snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the fed.

"Who?" Jethro's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. DiNozzo turned to look at the hot cop. "Oh, hmm. Wow." The smile was back. Jethro rolled his eyes and smacked him in the head again. DiNozzo groaned. "Sorry." He pulled a sheet out of his notebook and handed it over. "Motels."

Jethro ripped it out of his hands and turned to face the "Unies."

"What are you waiting for? Get to work!" The six of them looked at each other confused, unsure of what to do. DiNozzo stepped up.

"We've already covered those three buildings." He pointed down the road. "We need every apartment, every shop, every crawl space in a two mile area covered." He relayed everything that they'd learned so far. "Now I need more! Any questions?"

The Unies looked at each other nervously. After a moment the pretty girl started to raise her hand. "That was a rhetorical question! Now move!" The six of them scattered. "Two each per building!" They rescattered. DiNozzo sighed heavily.

"You like being in charge, DiNozzo?" Jethro asked when everyone was gone.

DiNozzo shrugged. "Has its perks." His phone rang. "DiNozzo." His face hardened instantly. "Already?" Pause. "Well I figured it could wait until the end of the case." Jethro watched as he rolled his head around. "Cap, I'm in the middle of a canvas." He sighed heavily. "Alright, I'll be there in a minute." He hung up, looking miserable.

"There a problem?"

"I gotta head back to the house." Jethro stared at him blankly. DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "The station house, don't you know anything about police departments?" Jethro glared.

"Why do you have to go back to the… _house_?" DiNozzo turned away, obviously embarrassed. The older man was already annoyed by the cop's attitude, he wasn't going to let him get away with this. "There a problem, detective?"

DiNozzo sighed. "I pulled a gun on a fed. They're sticking me with a psych eval."

Jethro shook his head. "Already? That only happened last night."

The younger man just shrugged. Jethro still wasn't convinced. They had work to do, they didn't have time to waste in a damn psych evaluation. DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, but if I don't go, I can kiss my badge goodbye." He gave him a pathetic pleading look. He looked like a five year old.

Jethro groaned. "Alright, fine. We can let the eunuchs cover the canvas." DiNozzo was silent again. The pathetic look was gone, to be replaced by a smile trying not to break free. "What?"

"Unies."

"Whatever." He turned away before DiNozzo could see the embarrassed look on his face.

* * *

**Ok, I am fully aware that Gibbs probably knows something about basic cop terms, but it fits for the story, since the two of them obviously know nothing about each other. And it's also kind of funny, and it wouldn't be NCIS without the humor. Also, NCIS has a lot of different slang than my other cop shows, so I can sort of see Gibbs not knowing some of this stuff. I apologize if I'm wrong.**

**Bob**


	8. Chapter 7

**Ok, remind me never to post two stories in one sitting. I woke up that afternoon and I had 59 messages in my inbox. It scared me. A lot. But, since you all have been so nice and kept begging for more, I decided to post chapter seven. Hope you like it! And yet again, ego boosts are appreciated.**

* * *

**Seven**

Tony tapped incessantly on the table in front of him. He sat in the interview room back at the station house. Dr. Jovier sat in front of him. It was clear that his patience was wearing thin. Tony couldn't blame him, he had that effect on people.

"So what happened last night, with Agent Gibbs?"

Tony shrugged. "He attacked my partner."

"He stopped your partner from shooting him."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Denny has a bad temper, but he's all talk. He wasn't gonna shoot him."

"You know that, but would Agent Gibbs?"

Tony sighed heavily. "I did what any other cop would do if their partner was in danger." His voice quieted down. He was getting upset. He really hated shrinks.

"Not every cop has your history."

"Plenty of them do."

"And not all of them handle it well. In fact most are never the same."

He sighed again. "I did the right thing." He didn't shout, although he wanted to. They weren't talking about last night anymore. They were talking about The Incident.

"Does that help you sleep at night?"

Tony burst out laughing. "I thought that we were here to talk about last night." He started getting bouncier. It was his best defense mechanism. Act like nothing fazed him. It was something he learned growing up. "Ok, I'll admit, what Denny did was incredibly stupid. And he'll probably have to come in and do the same little song and dance, I get that. But, I saw a man who hadn't identified himself—to me, anyways—as a federal agent, holding a gun to my partner's head. I reacted to my partner being in danger." He shrugged. "There's really nothing left to say."

Jovier eyed him curiously. "I'm getting a bit of a Sally Field vibe off of you right now, Detective DiNozzo."

Tony smiled. "_Cybil_ reference. Cute."

"I thought you would appreciate it."

"Except for one minor detail. Cybil suffered from multiple personality disorder, when she was in therapy, her mood didn't change, her whole persona did." He stopped and thought. "Is there a good therapy movie with a bipolar patient?"

"I'm not familiar with one."

"Didn't think you would be." He leaned back in his chair. His smile was a little more genuine this time.

"I know what you're doing, Anthony." Tony tensed at the use of his full name.

"What's that?"

Jovier smiled as he spoke. "You're trying to distract me. The sudden, bubbly exterior." Tony scoffed. "The movie synopsis."

"You're the one who brought up _Cybil_."

"While the point of this evaluation is to dissect the events of last night," Jovier continued as though Tony never spoke. "I believe that the problem extends far beyond that. Wouldn't you agree?"

Tony shook his head, still clinging to that last bit of humor. "Nope. I gave you everything that happened."

Jovier smiled. "What was going through your head when you put the gun to the back of Agent Gibbs' head?" He asked. Tony tensed again. "Or, when you pointed your second weapon at Agent Burley?"

He searched around the room, hoping to find a way out of answering the question. He tried to think of a joke, or a movie quote. Anything at all.

"Detective?"

Tony glanced up to meet his eyes. He had tears in his.

*~*

Jethro watched the stairs for signs of DiNozzo. It had only been a few minutes since the man went to speak to the psychiatrist, but in his opinion, it was too much already. Why the hell did he need to see a shrink anyway? What, did Baltimore expect their cops to talk and get all mushy every time they pulled their gun? Jethro thought they'd have a field day with his team. They worked very few cases when their guns weren't drawn at least once. And they were just fine.

"What's the connection between Daxon, Hawthorne, Quail, and Doe?" Burley asked to no one in particular. "They don't look alike, they don't hang in the same circles."

"That we know of." Morgan spoke up. "I haven't been able to get anything out of Cole about Daxon yet. He's still in shock about finding the bodies."

"And it doesn't seem like Quail had a lot of friends." Burley finished. Jethro looked back at the other two men.

"Who reported him missing?"

Morgan searched through his files for a second before his spoke. "His boss when he stopped showing up for work. Tried calling, no answer."

"You speak to him yet?"

"I made an appointment for tomorrow morning." His voice hardened, like he was getting angry again.

"Move it up, tomorrow you and DiNozzo are coming back with us to D.C."

"Can I ask why?" Morgan stood up, better to glare down the fed. Jethro pushed DiNozzo's chair out of his way and moved into Morgan's personal space.

Burley jumped up and moved in between the two of them. His movements were incredibly fast. As soon as Jethro moved, he was on his feet. "Boss!" He put his hands on Jethro's shoulders. Jethro turned to glare at him until he stopped touching him. Then he turned to Morgan. "Dennis," he jerked his head to the side. "Can I have a word in private?"

Morgan glared for another few seconds before following Burley out of the squad room. Jethro watched them leave before turning back towards the stairs.

Standing not two feet away from him was DiNozzo. He was seething. Apparently his meeting with the shrink didn't go over too well. "Don't make me regret working with you Gibbs."

It pained him, but Jethro went with the school yard excuse. "He started it."

"I heard what Dennis said, and no, he didn't." He moved closer. "You've treated him like crap ever since you showed up at our crime scene last night—"

"It was my scene too!"

"Not at the time, it wasn't. You've pretty much spit on him the entire time you've been in our city, if I was him, I'd be getting pretty pissed too."

"He has an attitude problem."

DiNozzo worked his jaw before speaking. "Donovan Quail is twenty-three, Kyle Daxon is twenty-one."

"What's your point, DiNozzo?"

"Denny's younger brothers are twenty-three and twenty-one." Jethro stopped. DiNozzo's eyes searched around the room for a bit before settling back on him. "We try to keep our personal feelings out of a case, but when something hits close to home, it's harder to do. And with the way they died." He paused. "I wouldn't doubt if he is seeing his brothers on those slabs instead of two complete strangers. Add in the fact that he's tired as hell, he's gonna snap. You would too."

Jethro wouldn't admit it, but he could understand Morgan's feelings. He always let his personal feelings affect him when they were dealing with a child case. Nobody knew, not even his best friend, but he was a father, once upon a time.

His daughter, Kelly was killed in a car accident along with his wife. Kelly was just eight years old at the time. Jethro was away at war. Not a day went by when he didn't think about them. And every time he met a kid, talked to a child, he saw a bit of Kelly in them.

"Alright. I'll go easy on him."

DiNozzo grinned. "Thanks. You know, you're not as bad as I thought." He smacked Jethro's back before wheeling his chair over and settling in at his desk. Jethro chuckled while simultaneously rolling his eyes. He sat down at the edge of DiNozzo's desk.

*~*

Stan dragged Dennis into the men's room. It was empty, so they'd have some privacy. Which was good, because Dennis wanted to scream and shout and hit things. Preferably that prick, Gibbs.

Stan leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, this whole competition thing you've got going on with my boss is really getting old."

"Does he treat you like this?" Dennis started pacing. Anything to keep from going back out there and shooting the bastard.

"Yeah, actually, he does. Look, Gibbs is a hard ass. He's really hard to get along with. But he's a fantastic investigator. Give him a chance." Stan shrugged. "You may not ever like him. But you'll respect him."

"Yeah? And when is he gonna start respecting me?"

"Maybe when you stop acting like a petulant two year old."

Morgan chuckled bitterly. "You sound just like Tony."

"Does he ever manage to talk some sense into you?" Dennis wheeled around, completely furious.

His hands flew around him. "Those boys are children. Beaten to death like nothing! But I'm a damn child because I'm in a pissed off mood?" He sighed heavily, his hand slapping against his leg.

Stan was quiet for a moment. "Do you have kids, Dennis?"

Dennis sighed. "I have five younger siblings."

Stan whistled. "Damn. How old?"

Dennis rolled his head around. "The youngest is nineteen, the oldest is twenty-five."

"Ah. So that's what you're problem is."

"Yeah." He paused. He thought about everything that happened in the last year. The incident. Last night. "Among other things." Stan moved away from the door. Dennis leaned against one of sinks and stared off into space. Stan came and joined him.

"The other things, I assume, are on a more personal level?"

Dennis sighed heavily. "I was seeing someone."

"Was?"

He nodded. "Until last night." He avoided Stan's eyes as he recounted his previous evening. "Everything was going great. We really liked each other. I thought we even loved each other."

"So did you break up with him, or did he break up with you?" Dennis turned to him, slightly flummoxed. He forgot that Stan knew that he was gay. It was weird. Only one other person in his life knew. Dennis wasn't used to that.

"He broke up with me. He said that I, uh, that I wasn't over Tony. And that I couldn't commit to him, when I was in love with someone else." He looked away again. Embarrassment flooded his body. He couldn't believe that he was pouring his heart out to a straight man.

"That blows."

"Tell me about it." They were silent. But Dennis couldn't deny he was feeling better. For so long, he was forced to stay quiet about who he truly was. He couldn't really tell his family that he was gay. His parents were both Catholics raised in devout families. He couldn't tell Tony, he was as straight as they come. And now along comes a total stranger who managed to pull everything out of him. It felt good to finally be able to let go.

A thought struck him. "They didn't have families."

Stan turned to him. "That was random. What?"

Dennis shot straight up. He had a look in his eye. His gut was churning. "They didn't have families!" He ran out of the bathroom and back into the squad room. Tony was at his desk, while Gibbs leaned over him. He squelched the sensation of jealousy that hit him as he ran closer. "They didn't have families!" He shouted again.

The two other men looked up, eyes wide. Stan ran in behind him. He was slightly out of breath. Dennis moved over to the bulletin board. "Donovan Quail was reported missing by his boss, he was raised in foster care since his parents' death when he was eight years old. The closest thing Kyle Daxon had to family was his roommate, John Cole."

"Corporal Kellan Hawthorne went UA six months ago. Reported by his CO, no known family in his file." Stan finished for him. Dennis gave him an appreciative smile.

Tony and Gibbs stood up and joined him at the board. "He's targeting people no one would miss." Tony said as the pieces started to fall into place.

"So they were able to go missing for months and no one would bother looking too hard." Gibbs finished.

Dennis turned to them. The excitement gone as the truth settled in. "We're looking for a serial killer."

* * *

**Well, I tried to fix the thing with the dialogue so it's not so confusing, I hope it helped. And I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a little more personal, but if all I focused on was the case, then this story would get boring pretty quickly. Fair warning, the next few chapters are a little more personal, and you'll get to learn more about Dennis and his life. I like him, so I like using him. Oh and one more thing.**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!**

**Had to say it early in case I don't get the next chapter up before the new year.**

**Bob**


	9. Chapter 8

**Ok, I wanted to get one more chapter up before the new year, but still leave you guys enough time to read and review. I figured tomorrow most of you guys would be busy enjoying your the holiday, but, now you have something to read before midnight! And a special holiday surprise? An insanely long chapter, on my computer, it was over eleven pages, that even beat chapter five!**

**One more thing, the character of Dennis' sister, In Tony's point of view, she is known as Ley, but in Dennis', she is Le_a_. It's the same character, but the two characters refer to her by a different nickname. So I just wanted to avoid confusion.**

* * *

**Eight**

Jethro tried thinking about the case that night as he sat in his motel room. They just figured out a huge detail about it that afternoon. But instead, all he could focus on was putting that damn letter together again.

Nobody noticed as he reached in and grabbed the torn bit of paper DiNozzo tossed. But he knew that it wasn't junk mail. The cop should have been smarter. He didn't rip the return address. Jethro just had to ask, why the hell would the FBI be sending letters to Baltimore Police?

The letter came from the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington D.C. Judging by the look on DiNozzo's face, it wasn't the first letter either. That peaked Jethro's curiosity. Normally, he wasn't all that curious about people's personal lives. He really didn't care. But he still didn't entirely trust Detective DiNozzo, there were too many unanswered questions. And he wasn't going to stop until he figured them out.

He taped up the last corner of the letter and held it at arm's length. It was the only way he could read these days. And he was too stubborn to admit that he needed reading glasses. He wasn't _that_ old.

His frown deepened with every sentence that he read. Surely, he read it wrong. There was no other explanation. Why else would DiNozzo tear it up?

_To Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore Police Department, Homicide Unit, 29__th__ precinct;_

_This is my eighth attempt to contact you, Detective DiNozzo. Normally I would have given up after the first letter. However, I feel that this case deserves special attention._

_I would like to once again, offer you a career opportunity at the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Someone with your investigative talents—as well as your other capabilities—would be greatly appreciated here in Washington D.C. _

_When I first offered you the job, I offered an entry level GS 10 position. However, given your skills and history, I see no reason why you could not start at a GS 11 or 12 position. In a few years tops, you could be leading your own team. _

_Please reconsider your original decision. A career with the F.B.I provides you with far more opportunities than a job as a detective in a city like Baltimore._

_Sincerely_

_Tobias Fornell_

_Senior Field Agent_

_Federal Bureau of Investigations_

Jethro read the letter a second time. And then a third. He knew Fornell. The man was a bastard at his nicest moments. He was constantly on Jethro's ass, trying to get cases out from under him. He was also picky about who he hired. He wouldn't hire just any old Joe off the street.

And he was begging?

Jethro read the letter again. It was definitely begging. Fornell was _begging_ DiNozzo to come work for him. The young man must have done something pretty damn extraordinary to get a deal like that. Like single handedly taking down an entire terrorist cell with nothing more than a toothpick and a homemade shank. But since he didn't hear about something like that in the news, he doubted that was the case.

He made a mental note to visit Fornell as soon as he got back to D.C. He was going to get to the bottom of this. And soon.

*~*

Tony all but ran up the driveway towards the back door. He was late. Really late. But he volunteered to drive Gibbs and Burley to the motels. And Gibbs didn't like the first one. The second one smelled. There was a single hooker trolling the third one, and even after Tony chased her away, the place was tainted. Tony honestly thought that by the seventh one, Gibbs was just testing his patience. He seemed like the kind of guy to do that.

He didn't bother knocking. He just opened the door and casually stepped into entryway. He toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat. He could hear voices coming from the living room. He hoped they didn't start without him. They'd kill him if they had to start without him.

"You're late." He jumped at the sound of the voice. He wheeled around, his arms flailing around in a pathetic attempt at karate. Ley just stood there with her arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face.

Adley Morgan was Denny's little sister. She was a twenty-five year old patrol cop. She was beautiful, with thick dark brown hair and matching eyes. She wasn't particularly curvy, but she made up for that with her exotic features and dark skin tone. Her mother was Italian while her father was a Native American. Ley inherited the best of both their cultures.

"Sorry. Long day at the office."

"A; it's Sunday, you shouldn't even be at the office."

"Well," he scoffed, interrupting her. "Not all of us are rookies. We work whenever a case pops up, we don't have a specific schedule."

"B; Dennis got here an hour and a half ago." She continued as if he never spoke.

He rolled his eyes. "Denny took off and left me to handle the rest of the job by myself."

"Sounds awful," Ley said with mock sympathy. Acting like he was annoyed, he grabbed her and pulled her close. It wasn't a heartfelt embrace, though. He shoved his fist into her hair and rubbed back and forth. "Hey! Watch the hair!"

"Lea!" Ley pulled away at the third voice. The two of them swiveled around towards the hallway. Denny's mom, Mary Mancona, stood with her arms crossed. But she was grinning, so Tony assumed he wasn't in too much trouble. "Tony."

"Hi mom." He said with his brightest smile.

"You're late." She turned away and moved back towards the living room. Ley and Tony followed, pushing and shoving each other the entire time.

"Yeah, sorry. Work ran late."

Mary scoffed. "That's no excuse, Dennis got here an hour and a half ago."

Ley grinned in triumph. Tony tripped her.

"Mom!" She yelled.

"Will you two behave?" Mary sighed heavily. "I swear, I gave birth to two sons. I don't know how, or when, but it happened." She left the room, heading towards the kitchen, probably to put the finishing touches on dinner.

A few years ago, Ley told her mom and brother that she wanted to be a cop. Denny convinced her to go to the Academy in Philedelphia where they worked at the time, so she could work alongside her big brother. She did. And Mary followed her. When they moved to Baltimore a little over a year ago, Ley and Mary came with them. Ever since then, it's been a tradition. The three of them come over to Mary's home on Sunday for dinner. There was no way of getting around it. If you didn't show, Mary threatened to show up to the precinct in curlers, a green face mask, her robe and slippers and give them a big _babushka _kiss. Basically she'd slobber all over their faces while crowing about all of their most embarrassing childhood memories. And Tony, being her "adopted" son, was not exempt.

Somebody smacked him in the back. Since Ley was standing in his line of vision, and Mary was in the kitchen, that only left one person. Denny. "Glad you finally made it. I'm starving."

Tony glared at his best friend. "Would have gone faster if you went with me."

Denny scoffed. "You were taxiing around a couple of feds. How would I have made a difference?"

"We could have tag teamed them! It was two against one, Morgan! I had to do everything they wanted!"

"You didn't have to. Gibbs seems to like you, you probably could have gotten away with telling him off."

"And if I had a death wish, I would have!"

"Dinner!" Mary called from the kitchen, successfully stopping the argument. As soon as the first syllable was out of her mouth, both boys were running into the other room. Tony was probably hungrier than Denny. And while Mary's cooking tended to scare him—one too many fires on Thanksgiving—Ley tended to do all of the cooking on their Sunday gatherings. And she was fantastic!

He pushed Denny into the wall and took his seat at the end of the table. Mary and Ley rolled their eyes at him, which he ignored. "So," he said rubbing his hands together. "What's on the menu?"

Denny sat down next to him, rubbing his arm where it hit the wall. The women went to work putting all of the food on the table. It smelled amazing.

"Guess," was all Ley said. All of the food was covered.

Tony sniffed the air. "Steak. Medium rare." He sniffed again. "Home fries, homemade chicken noodle soup. And," he sniffed again, "Broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and green beans in garlic butter sauce." He smiled. Denny and Mary stared at him completely bewildered.

"You seriously have to teach me how you do that." said Denny as he shook out his napkin.

Ley rolled her eyes. "He's been my guinea pig since I was twelve, that's how recognizes the smells." When she was twelve, she decided she wanted to be a world famous chef. Tony volunteered to be her taste tester. It was a decision he regretted for almost two years before she started to improve.

"I think he cheated." Denny glared at him.

Tony glared at him in mock seriousness. "And just when would I have found the time? I just got here." He saw as his friend crumbled in embarrassment. He sat back in his chair, smug.

Both of them stopped at the sight of Mary. She didn't say a word, but she glared at them. It was a glare that could have made Gibbs' knees wobble. Her eyebrows never moved, but her eyes lowered down to slits, and her mouth tightened. It scared small children and grown men alike.

"Lea, say grace."

The four of them lowered their heads while Ley said the prayer. After it was over, Tony and Denny were still a little afraid to say anything.

"So, I hear you guys are working with feds again." Ley said after a minute to get conversation rolling. Food was passed around, the boys taking most of it.

Denny nodded. "Yup. NCIS."

"NCIS?" Asked Mary.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service." Tony answered.

Ley turned towards her mother. "They investigate the Navy and the Marine Corp. They're like us, but they get better pay." Denny and Tony turned to her, confused. Her eyes widened. "Guys, I'm a cop, I have to know this stuff too." She took a bite of her vegetables.

Mary turned to her boys. "So what's the case?"

They stopped, mid bite. Denny turned to his mother sheepishly. "I really don't think it's good dinner conversation, mom."

Ley nodded. "I agree. I heard about the case from a buddy of mine who was on the scene. It didn't sound pretty."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" Mary started to get panicked, frantically looking between the three of them.

Tony was the first to respond. "Oh, definitely not. We really don't even know all of the details on the case yet. It just happened yesterday."

Mary still didn't look convinced. Tony silently counted down the seconds before she completely exploded. But Ley turned to them, "So, guys, tell me about the Navy cops. Are they as bad as I hear?" Tony could have hugged her for the subject change.

"Personality wise, yes." Denny grumbled. Ley looked to Tony questioningly.

He rolled his eyes. "Your brother doesn't really get along with Agent Gibbs. But he spent all day flirting with Agent Burley." That earned him a smack. He laughed. "Obviously, they aren't all that bad."

"I heard that you two are sharing lead."

Tony nodded again. "Yep."

"How's that working for ya?"

Tony threw his head back and groaned. "I'm working with a man who's never heard of Bruce Willis or _Cary Grant_!" Bruce Willis wasn't a big deal for him, but Cary Grant was one of the greatest actors of all time!

Ley jerked up in her seat. "What? Are you kidding me? How does he not know who Cary Grant is? How old is he, twelve?"

"He's older than I am!" That was one of the things Tony liked about the younger girl. She loved movies as much as he did. She was actually the reason for his love of movies.

She scoffed. "So what's his excuse?"

"He only owns one TV."

Denny completely ignored the conversation, choosing instead to focus on his meal. Mary, on the other hand, looked just as outraged as the other two. "How does he not know Cary Grant?" She finally asked. "_His Girl Friday, Arsenic and Old Lace_!" Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. She scoffed. "Clearly, he doesn't know anything about culture!" She shook her head in disgust.

Ley and Tony turned to her. Ley was glaring. "Are you mocking us?"

"No, I'm not mocking you. I agree, I can't believe how he couldn't know about Cary Grant."

"You sound mocking."

"Lea, I'm not mocking you, I'm agreeing with you!" Her voice got higher in indignation. Ley still didn't look convinced. She turned back to Tony.

"So, does the guy have _any _redeeming qualities?"

Tony shrugged. "Still trying to figure it out. He doesn't like your brother."

"That just makes him human." That earned her a smack. She giggled. Mary sighed heavily and shook her head. "How's his crime solving skills?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, he hasn't figured out the case just yet, but then, neither have I, so, can't complain."

"Well, I'm sure that the three of you will solve it by Friday at the latest." Mary said, probably in an attempt to stop the conversation. "Dennis, could you pass the home fries?"

Denny tried handing her the plate, but her hand shook so violently it toppled over. In an instant, all three of them were up. "Damn it!" Mary swore. She pulled her arm close to her chest, avoiding all of the concerned looks she was getting.

Ley started picking up the potato bits while Tony and Denny moved to comfort her. "Ah!" She yelled, raising her hand to stop them. They did. "I'm fine. Now just sit, and enjoy the rest of your dinner."

They weren't convinced. "You sure you're ok, ma?" Ley asked as she finished scooping up the potatoes.

Mary nodded. "It's happened before, it'll happen again. No reason for that to ruin dinner, right?" She smiled, but it felt more forced than anything. Slowly, everybody sat back down. They were all still a bit tense. They were worried about her. Mary shook her head. "How does a man not know Bruce Willis?" That got everyone to start laughing.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. As usual, Denny and Ley were at each other's throats. Sometimes Tony joined in, while other times he tried to play mediator. It didn't really work. At one point, they jumped up and Denny started chasing his sister around the house trying to beat her. It stopped after they reached the living room. Tony heard a very distinct "oomph." He figured that Ley got the better of her brother. She usually did these days.

"Aren't you two a little old to be horsing around like that?" He asked Ley as they washed the dishes. Denny was in the living room sulking about getting beaten by his baby sister. Mary held herself up in her bedroom. Well, actually, Ley and Denny forced her to go rest after what happened at the table.

Ley glared at him. "He's my brother. It's what siblings do."

Tony shook his head. "Not all of them."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you know, you're an only child. And, you and Den aren't exactly the poster boys for brotherly love." She handed him a plate to dry.

"Yeah, but it's different. You're a girl."

"And yet, I can still kick his ass."

"You fight dirty." Tony tried to glare, but he just couldn't.

"There's no such thing." She turned to face him head on, grinning. "You taught me that." They were silent for a while. But it wasn't awkward. More content.

After a moment, they went back to their tasks. "So, according to my buddy that was on the scene, you pulled your gun on one of the feds."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Are you even old enough to have made buddies on the force?"

"Have you been in Baltimore long enough to have made buddies?"

Tony was about to say another comeback, but stopped short. "Touché." Ley smiled.

"So, what's the dealio?" He shook his head. She smacked him in the stomach. "It is true?"

At first he was quiet, but after a second, he nodded. "In my defense, Den started it."

Ley rolled her eyes. "Shocker." Her smile faded as she asked her next question. "You alright?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? I had everything under control!"

"It's been a year, Tony." He was quiet again. "Ok, trust me, I know better than most people what happened that day. And I know the toll it took on you."

"I don't wanna talk about it. I already had to hear it from the department shrink, I don't need to hear it from you too."

"Setley?"

"Jovier." That got him a confused look.

"Jovier's usually reserved for victim counseling and rape cases. Why'd he talk to you?" Tony shrugged.

"Apparently, sex isn't good therapy. My captain thought I'd be less attracted to Jovier." Ley rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"Only you would bone a psychiatrist during an eval."

"I am not! Plenty of people have done it. Hell _you_ would have done it!" She gave him a look. "If you were a lesbian, or the psychiatrist was a good looking guy." He smiled. "Like, for example, me."

She scoffed. "Except I'm still a virgin, and there is no way in hell I would _ever_ believe that you were a shrink." She handed him the last plate. She moved into his personal space. "And even if I did, you couldn't pay me to have sex with you." She walked away. Tony followed her movements.

*~*

Dennis stood in the doorway to the kitchen and watched the exchange between his sister and Tony. He wasn't sure who he wanted to punch more, Tony, for flirting with his baby sister, or Lea, for flirting back.

Lea walked away with a smile on her face. She apparently didn't notice him standing there. Tony followed her with his eyes, grinning like a mad man. Dennis' fists clenched. "Hey, you almost ready to go?" He asked his partner.

Tony jerked out of whatever fantasy he was in and stared at him dumbfounded. "Yeah. Just give me a second." He finished drying the last dish and put it away in the cupboard. He turned back around. "You about ready to head up to D.C. tomorrow?" He sounded excited. Dennis, not so much.

"I can't drive up with you guys." Tony's face fell.

"Why the hell not?"

"I got that interview with Quail's boss tomorrow morning."

"Gibbs told you to reschedule that." He was starting to get agitated. That flared Dennis' anger.

"Last I checked I don't work for Gibbs. And I couldn't reschedule, it took serious finagling just to get that time!"

Tony blew out a big gust of air. Clearly he wasn't happy. Dennis wasn't really happy either. In all of their years together, they never worked apart. But this case, it's all they seemed to be doing. And it had only been a day.

"Fine. But as soon as you're done, I want you in the damn car on your way to D.C. got it?"

Dennis nodded. "Got it."

Tony nodded. "Good. There's only so much time I can spend around feds." He moved away from the counter.

Dennis chuckled. "You managed just fine last time." He watched Tony tense slightly before he started walking again. He moved towards his mom's bedroom. Dennis followed. She would kill them both if they thought for a second they could leave without saying goodbye, sick or not.

Tony knocked on her bedroom door. "Come in!" She called to them. They pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

His mom lay on the bed, Lea sitting next to her. Dennis crossed the room and enveloped his mother in a giant bear hug. "We're heading out now, mom." He hugged a little tighter when he felt her shaking slightly.

"Alright." She pulled back to give him a big kiss on the cheek. He let go, and Tony stepped up. "Thank you boys for coming by." She gave him a kiss as well.

Tony chuckled. "Right, like there was ever a choice." She smacked him in the back of the head.

"Are you saying that I'm forcing you here?" Mom looked at them, her eyes wide in indignation.

Tony stepped back, shuffling his feet like a five year old in trouble. "Well, it's not like it's a bad thing." Mom continued to stare at him with that same look. After a while, he turned to Dennis for help. He just shook his head. It was his way of saying, 'you're on your own.'

Unfortunately, Lea took pity on him. "Like I've said before, mom, you can be really scary at times." Mom turned her look on her daughter. But it didn't have the same result.

"I'm what?" She had murder in her voice.

"You're a scary little Italian woman. Most people are afraid of you." She smiled brightly. Mom just kept staring. "They aren't dumb enough to intentionally face your wrath."

Mom scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about." Lea turned to Dennis and rolled her eyes. He just shook his head.

"We have to be getting going." He turned towards the door when his mother's voice stopped him again. He turned to her, confused. "What?"

"Don't I get a hug and a kiss?"

For a second, Dennis feared for his mother's mental health even more than normal. Then he remembered who he was speaking to. "I just gave you one!"

"Yeah, and now I need another one." Dennis rolled his eyes, but nevertheless complied. Lea was right, his mother was scary. She was a tiny little thing, five foot four, age and two children softened her around the middle, but she still didn't look very intimidating. But there was something about her that sent grown men running away with tears in their eyes.

When he pulled away, she turned back to Tony. "You too. What? You think you're exempt or something?" She scoffed at the same time she wrapped her arms around him. "Bye guys." She said as he too pried her off of him.

"Bye mom." They said simultaneously. They turned to the other woman in the room.

Dennis smiled. "Bye dork." She rolled her eyes.

"See ya, douche."

Tony nodded his goodbye. "Rookie."

"Vet."

The two of them scrambled out of the room before mom could stop them again. She had the habit of saying goodbye fifteen different times for over an hour. If they didn't make a hasty retreat, they might not ever be allowed to leave.

Dennis stopped in his tracks when he saw his car. There was something stuck under his windshield wipers. He turned to Tony, silently asking if he saw it too. The frown that formed on his face gave him his answer. Slowly, Dennis approached. Hand on his gun at his hip, just in case.

It was a flyer. At least it looked like one. Except that it was folded in half. He pulled it out and opened it.

His eyes jerked up, he pulled out his gun and searched the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Tony followed suit, but he was a little more hesitant. He didn't know what was going on.

He said something, but Dennis didn't hear him. "Denny!" He finally turned to Tony. There was worry in his eyes. "What is it?" He handed the note over. He watched Tony's face as he read the words.

"One, two, three, what do I see?" He looked up, confused. He searched around until his eyes landed on his car. Dennis followed suit.

There was a flyer on his windshield too.

Tony took off running. His car wasn't parked too far away, so he reached it relatively quickly. He ripped the flyer off and opened it.

"What's it say?" Dennis called.

Tony yelled back. "Five bumbling cops, looking for me!" Dennis strode over, holstering his weapon. He took both notes from his partner and started at them. It was dark, he could barely make out the words. He moved under the streetlamp. His gut clenched.

"What the hell is this written in?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say blood." Dennis knew that tone in Tony's voice. Whenever he was scared or sad, he got angry. And right now, he had to be pretty damn scared.

He looked away from the note and into his partner's eyes. He knew what he was going to say. And he hated it, but it had to be done. "Call Gibbs," he said.

Dennis nodded. He wasn't going to argue. Their killer just decided to target them.

* * *

**So, was it a happy medium? Yes, there was a lot learned about Dennis and his life, but the majority of it was still about Tony! And I just have to say, the character of Mary Mancona was based--pretty heavily--on my own mother. My mom is really a scary little Italian woman, and I really think that she would give Gibbs a run for his money, which is weird, because she's a total cloud.**

**The point of this, I have to say, is that everybody always writes Tony to have this absolutely miserable life, that I wanted to add in a happier point, and I couldn't think of better inspiration then my own mother. Well, as always, review, let me know what you think. The more reviews, the faster I update.**

**Bob**


	10. Chapter 9

**Well, I know that the last chapter was all about Dennis and his family, but I just want everyone to know that while Dennis is a main character in the story, the focus is mostly on Gibbs and Tony. So, consider the last chapter a bit of an interlude, the next few chapters is mostly about the case. Though I'm still not done, so I don't know what's going to happen next. Well, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Nine**

Jethro didn't like being woken up in the middle of the night. He usually got to sleep late—many late nights building his boat—so when he actually fell asleep, he liked to stay that way. Now, here he was, at yet another crime scene. And he had to arrive in a _cab_. Next time he headed to another city for a case, he was taking the sedan with him.

DiNozzo and Morgan looked terrible. Not just tired, but he sensed that they were a little freaked as well. Morgan worse than DiNozzo. He couldn't blame them. They may work a lot of cases, but it was unlikely they'd ever personally been targeted by a killer before.

"What've you got?" He asked as he stepped closer to them. Neither of them spoke, they just handed him two separate sheets of paper, already bagged and tagged. He tried to read them, but with his eyesight, and with the lack of light, it was damn near impossible.

He looked up and glared at the two younger men. Morgan spoke first. "The first one says, 'one, two, three, what do I see?' It was stuck to my windshield."

"The second one says 'five bumbling cops, looking for me.'" Jethro tried looking at the notes again. "It looks like they're written in blood, but we'll need a forensic tech to confirm." Jethro nodded.

"We're not waiting until tomorrow. We're heading back to D.C. tonight."

DiNozzo shook his head. "I'm not really sure that's a good idea."

"Whoever these guys are, they targeted you two personally. It's safer getting you out of the city."

Morgan shook his head. "I'm not going."

Jethro almost groaned. "Detective Morgan—"

Morgan turned to him, his eyes blazing. "This is my mother's house, Agent Gibbs! The bastards know where she lives, and if you think for even a second that I'm going to leave her here after this, you got another thing coming." He turned and headed towards the house.

A younger woman was waiting on the porch. He couldn't really see what she looked like, but from what he could see, she sort of looked like Morgan. Jethro assumed she was his sister.

"It's an Italian thing, Gibbs, I doubt you would understand."

Jethro turned to him with a quirked eyebrow. "Morgan's Italian?"

DiNozzo chuckled. "Right, like you couldn't tell."

Jethro shook his head. "What does that have to do with this?" He asked in a gust of air. DiNozzo had that effect on him.

The younger man shrugged. "It's this weird code about family. Overprotective, overbearing, Denny's family is the epitome of an Italian cliché. Except for the mafia thing." He paused. "Although, there is a rumor that his great grandfather made a man disappear once. They never said exactly what happened but—"

Jethro reached up and smacked him in the back of the head again. This one was much harder than the last two. "Our killer may very well be _personally_ targeting you and your partner, and you're sitting there telling stories and making jokes?"

DiNozzo's smile fell. "Everybody copes with things differently." He shrugged. Jethro stepped into his personal space and stared directly into his eyes. He could see the fear, and pain. "When do you wanna head to D.C?" He asked, trying to get the older man out of his personal space.

Jethro backed up. He was satisfied with what he saw. He actually would have been more worried if DiNozzo had been blank. "I need to talk to Morgan's family."

DiNozzo shook his head. The fear had intensified. "They didn't see or hear anything."

"Rule number three DiNozzo."

He rolled his eyes. "Right, never believe what you're told. Double check. But Gibbs, I am begging you. Please, _do not_ talk to Denny's mom. She was in her room when we left."

"So she'll confirm—"

"She's a paranoid schizophrenic." That stopped him. Jethro stared at him, completely confused. DiNozzo rubbed his eyes. "She takes her meds. Under normal circumstances she does just fine, but," he trailed off. He looked at the house, a hint of emotion in his eyes. "The pills aren't perfect. There's still a trace of that insanity in her." He looked back to the federal agent. "You start talking to her about her son and adopted son possibly being targeted by a serial killer, and I don't know what she'll do. But I guarantee it won't be pretty."

Jethro listened patiently through his speech. Once again, he found his heart going out to Detective Morgan. He couldn't imagine what it had to have been like, watching his mother suffer like that, with no way of helping her.

But he did have to comment on one thing. "Adopted son?"

DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "She treats me like a son. And I'm not dumb enough to complain."

Jethro's mouth quirked into a small smile before he pushed it down again. "Alright, fine, I'll leave her out of this. What about the girl?"

"Ley, Denny's little sister. She's fine, she's a cop too." DiNozzo started heading towards the house. Jethro was slow following. Events from the day came rushing back.

"Patrol cop?"

DiNozzo turned back to him like he was insane. "She's twenty-five, _I'm _too young to be a detective, you think she's old enough?" Jethro smirked again.

_DiNozzo turned to them and frowned. Jethro rolled his eyes. "What? She not pretty enough for you?" The younger man snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the fed._

When they reached the porch, Morgan was nowhere to be found, but the girl was still there. Her arms were crossed to block out the cold.

She was pretty, her hair was dark brown, cut somewhat short, but pulled away from her face. She had high cheekbones and pretty eyes. Her skin was darker, but with a red undertone.

She turned to him and held out her hand. "Officer Morgan. You must be Agent Gibbs."

He looked her up and down. He tried to imagine her in a uniform. Couldn't see it. "Nice to meet you." He said as he took her hand. He got right down to business. "Where were you when Detectives DiNozzo and Morgan found their notes?"

"I was inside, with my mother. I only came outside a few minutes ago when I saw they hadn't left yet." She stepped further into the doorway. It was pretty damn cold out, and she didn't have a jacket. Jethro, on the other hand, was still relatively warm in his NCIS jacket.

"You notice anything before that?"

She shook her head. "I was in the kitchen most of the afternoon. It has one window, and that's pointing to the neighbor's bathroom. Not exactly a great view." DiNozzo chuckled. Officer Morgan ignored him and focused back on Jethro. "Agent Gibbs, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is going on? What's the case that you're working on?"

"You don't know?"

She shook her head. "I heard the basics of the crime scene from a friend of mine, Tony and Dennis wouldn't elaborate." She turned to glare at the other man. Jethro noticed that DiNozzo actually cringed. He blinked. Every time he glared at the younger man, he just smiled or made a joke. But he actually _cringed_ at this little girl?

Jethro sighed. He didn't say anything. Officer Morgan rolled her head around, suddenly frustrated. "The three of you are in complete cop mode, and I wanna know why it's happening outside of my mother's house!" She yelled.

Jethro watched her, as she shouted. He wasn't sure if she could handle it. But after a while, he noticed that while she was afraid, she was still strong enough to handle it. He nodded. "We believe there are two, possible serial killers. They may be targeting your brother." Officer Morgan's eyes widened in shock.

"What?" Jethro handed her the notes. DiNozzo went on to explain how they were found on their cars. Officer Morgan stared down at the notes for at least five minutes. Her hand was shaking, but Jethro doubted it was from the cold.

"Ley?" DiNozzo asked. She didn't tear her eyes from the paper in front of her.

"Why?" She finally looked up. The fear was still evident, but now she was all business. "Jack the Ripper liked to taunt the police, but he sent full letters to them, this… I don't know what this is. But why do it?"

"It's a poem," Said DiNozzo. "My guess is it isn't done yet."

"You think you'll get more?"

DiNozzo nodded. "I'd stake my pension on it."

Officer Morgan quirked an eyebrow. "You have a pension?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "Not a particularly large one, but I'm still young, it'll grow."

Jethro shook his head. "You have your gun, Officer Morgan?" She turned back to him, she still had a terrified look on her face.

She nodded. "It's inside." Jethro nodded. She tensed. "Am I going to need it, Agent Gibbs?"

"Probably not, but you should always be prepared." She nodded. "Detective DiNozzo and I are driving up to D.C. now. In the morning, I expect your brother to follow." She nodded again. Jethro took a step back, planning to leave. "Tell him to pick up Burley on his way out." He swung around and strode down the path to DiNozzo's car. The younger man hesitated to say goodbye before he followed.

They were almost to the car before Jethro turned to him. The glare was back full force. It was the glare he used in interrogation to make murderers cry. DiNozzo rolled his head in exasperation. "What is it with you and the damn glares?" He seethed. He kept his voice low, not to disturb anyone in the area, particularly the family he just left. "You got a problem with me, then tell me, but don't give me a damn look and expect me to know what I did wrong!"

"I wanna know, right now, if I can trust you." Jethro kept his voice low as well, but it added more to the effect. Quiet, his words came out as a growl. "You and your partner were targeted for a reason. What the hell would that be?"

"I don't know, I just got the letters, they haven't been checked out yet."

"Anybody have a grudge against you?"

"Plenty of people. I'm a cop, if people didn't have a grudge against me, I wouldn't be doing my damn job!" He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger and sighed heavily. "If anything, we were targeted because we're the cops on the case. Like Ley said about Jack the Ripper. Whoever this guy is, he's taunting us. And he's not done yet."

"I figured that."

"Which is why it's a bad idea to leave the city tonight. If they're not done taunting, they're not done killing. We leave, who knows who they'll take next."

"NCIS has better resources than Baltimore."

"So you keep saying."

"And I need to hear in person what they found out. And sooner better than later. We leave now, he can be back in Baltimore by five o' clock. With more information so we're not flying blind. That gonna be a problem?"

DiNozzo let out a puff of air. "Yeah, a little, if you don't stop treating me like a damn subordinate! This is a joint effort, and I've proven today that I can do this damn job. I'm not Burley, I'm not Langer. I don't work for you! On this case, I'm working _with _you, and I'd appreciate it if you acted like it."

"You done?"

DiNozzo chuckled. It was a bitter sound.

He shook his head, but otherwise didn't say anything. He tossed the keys to Jethro and climbed in on the passenger's side of his car. Jethro climbed behind the wheel. Within a few short minutes they were pulling onto a main road that led to the highway.

The car was quiet. Neither man was willing to speak. Jethro sighed. He knew there was something off about those two. And finding those notes just made him more suspicious. Why were they left on their cars? Taunting the police wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, but this was more than just a simple middle finger in your face. The two detectives on the case were personally targeted. Jethro had a feeling that the two of them were more involved in the case than they've let on. He just had to get them to crack.

Jethro turned to his passenger, surprised that he managed to stay quiet for such an extended length of time. His mouth quirked up when he saw him slumped against the window, fast asleep. He knew the man was young, but seeing him asleep, in that position, he looked even younger. And oddly vulnerable. His brow was creased. Whatever he was dreaming, it didn't seem to be very pleasant.

*~*

_All he heard were blood curdling screams from every direction. They deafened him. He tried to focus his gaze on one particular person, but no one stayed still long enough. He saw Denny, staring at him. He was terrified. But terrified of what? _

_Something grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around. What he saw made him shriek._

Tony jerked awake with a yelp. His dream was still fresh in his mind. The blood, the empty eye socket. It took him a second to settle his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to just vomit.

"Hey." He jerked his head to the left. Gibbs sat behind the wheel of his car. He was staring at him with a look of worry on his face. "You alright?"

It took a second for Tony to remember the events of the day. Then another thirty to find his voice. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "Just a bad dream." He leaned his head against the window. He was no longer tired. Fact he was wide awake.

"Ya have a lot of those?"

Tony chuckled. "You trying to shrink me now, Gibbs?" The older man was silent. Tony looked out the window and watched as the scenery whizzed by. He stared at the railing at the side of the road. At this angle, and these speeds, it looked like the metal didn't have any legs. Like it was just floating along next to them.

"How much longer till we reach Washington?" He asked, still not taking his eyes off the rail.

"About ten more minutes."

Tony nodded but didn't say anything else. He was still shaken by the dream. "Why didn't you wake me up?" He asked, genuinely curious. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at him. "Had to have been a pretty boring ride so far."

"I figured it'd be the only quiet time I'd have till the case was solved."

Tony chuckled. "You trying to tell me I talk too much?"

"That shock you?"

The younger man shrugged. "Silence is deafening." Gibbs spared him another look. Tony couldn't blame him. His last statement was a bit of an oxymoron. "Silence consumes you, forces you to think about things you don't want to think about. It's awkward and—"

"And sometimes comforting." Gibbs cut him off. Tony rolled his eyes but, regardless, didn't say anything else.

He sat back in his seat, ready to smack himself silly. He was revealing far more to this man than he ever wanted. He told Gibbs things that he never talked to Denny about. The two of them never even talked about his mother's schizophrenia. Or how afraid they were for her, that one day the medicine would stop working. Or that the shaking would become so unbearable she wouldn't be able to function on her own anymore.

The strange thing was that Denny would probably actually _want _to talk with him. Gibbs couldn't care less. So why was he so willing to divulge his secrets?

Oh god, he didn't trust Gibbs, did he?

* * *

**For the record, no my mother is not a schizophrenic, although I'm convinced she's suffering from early onset Alzheimer's. Well, once again, please review and let me know what you thought.**

**Bob**


	11. Chapter 10

**Normally I would wait a few more days (I only got 15 reviews for the last chapter, I should make you guys wait) HOWEVER, I am proud to say that Slaughter House is now the proud owner of 200 reviews! *Applauds* Really, I would like to thank everyone who has followed this story so far, and special thanks to all of the numerous reviews and everyone who added this story to their favorites lists, or story alerts, and their communities. So as a special chocolate chip cookie, I present to you, Chapter 10!**

**On another note, I just want everyone to know, that I just wrote the scene that describes "The incident." No it is not in this chapter, you're still going to have to wait for it, but I actually wrote it, and I can tell you that it's not too far away. Well, ok, that really depends on your definition of 'too far.' But if you guys review a lot, the faster you'll get to see it. Remember that. *wink wink hint hint***

**

* * *

**

**Ten**

Tony stared around like a tourist as they drove through Washington D.C. Even though he only lived a few hours away, he had never been to the capital before. It was nice. A hell of a lot nicer than Baltimore. Though he supposed it had to be, considering it was the nation's capital.

They pulled into the NCIS parking lot and entered through the front door. Tony had to explain for five minutes why he was carrying a gun into a federal agency. He showed the front security guy his badge at least twelve times before he finally believed that he was a cop. It didn't help that Gibbs decided _now _would be a good time to develop a sense of humor. He shouted out how Tony had kidnapped him and kept him prisoner as a sex slave for the last twenty-four hours. It also didn't help that Tony verbalized his desire to shoot him.

They finally made it to the elevator and headed up. Tony glared at Gibbs with an intensity to rival the old man's. Gibbs didn't seem to notice. Either that or he just didn't care.

The lift pinged and the doors slowly slid open. The fed strode out of them like he owned the place. Once again, Tony found himself acting like a tourist as he stared around the room. It was like the bullpen back in Baltimore. Except brighter, and he had to admit, the place had nicer equipment.

"Langer!" Gibbs shouted as he dropped the letters from Tony and Denny's cars on his desk. The man in question jumped. It was obvious that he had fallen asleep at his desk. Tony assumed he had been there all night. Or close to. "What've you got?"

Langer was silent. He stared behind Gibbs at Tony. Apparently, he didn't like the younger man's presence in _his _agency. Tony just smiled at him.

"Any day now!"

Langer jumped again, this time out of his seat. "Corporal Kellan Hawthorne, age twenty four." He typed a few things on his keyboard. Seconds later, a military service record popped up on a giant TV next to his desk. Tony's jaw dropped. His unit were still using cork boards and chalkboards. And they had freaking TVs? "Joined the marines fresh out of high school. Bright kid, no arrest record. But his CO described him as an average marine at best. He didn't really stick out. Didn't excel at anything. If it wasn't his job, the CO wouldn't even know he went UA."

"What about his family?" Tony asked. The other two agents turned to stare at him. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's shocking, I actually know how to do my job. Can you, answer the question? Or did you not get to it inbetween sleeping and looking up all the dirt on me and my partner?" That earned him another stare. He rolled his eyes and asked the question again, this time slower.

Langer finally turned back to the TV and clicked a button on his remote. "Mother died two years ago, no father listed." Langer turned to his boss. "Mom was a bit of a whore, apparently." Tony read the words on the screen.

"Woman was raped." The two other agents stared at him again. Tony glared at Langer. "Don't ever assume that a woman is a tramp without looking at all the evidence first. According to Hawthorne's service record, he didn't request time off for the funeral." The other two men turned back to the screen.

"How can you see that?" Langer asked.

"His request off forms." He pointed. "He made about eight requests in six years, but none of those times match his mother's death."

Gibbs stared at the forms himself. He knew Tony was right. "He had to have had a reason for skipping out on his mother's funeral."

Tony continued for him. "Like, she hated him for reminding her of her assualt."

Langer scoffed. "This is purely speculation. You can't know—"

"Neither can you." He glared at the agent. "Mom was an alcoholic, who died of DTs. Look her up, you might even find her case file. If she ever reported it." Langer's eyes darted between Tony and his boss. Gibbs gave him a firm nod. The young man scurried back to his desk and started typing away furiously. Gibbs moved closer to Tony.

"What makes you think she was raped? Speaking of personal experience?"

Tony chuckled. "Case about five months ago. A woman murdered her sixteen year old son because she was afraid he was going to turn out like his father." He turned his head to catch Gibbs' eye. "Her rapist."

Something pinged. Langer sat back in his chair, a little sheepish. He was hesitant to talk, but both Gibbs and Tony glared death at him. Finally he let out, "Sharon Hawthorne, raped twenty-five years ago. Case went cold. This was before DNA, and no other evidence was found." Gibbs stepped up and smacked him in the back of his head. Tony smirked.

Gibbs lowered down till his face was merely inches from Langer's. Tony could barely make out the words he said. He leaned in closer. "Don't you ever call a rape victim a whore again, you got that?" Langer nodded.

Gibbs stood back up. "We get an I.D. on our second John Doe yet?" He moved back so he was looking at the monitor again.

Langer shook his head. "Abby ran him through AFIS, no match. So far she hasn't had any luck."

"She try DMV records yet?" Tony asked.

Langer started to scoff again, until Gibbs stopped him. His scoff turned into a cough. "Those aren't exactly legal yet."

"I know that. But we aren't using them to identify a perp. We're identifying a victim." He turned to Gibbs. "My A.D.A could work around that, can yours?"

Gibbs smirked. "We don't use A.D.A.'s. NCIS has their own team of lawyers." He headed back towards the elevator. Tony and Langer followed. "Langer!"

"On your six boss!" Tony looked at him confused.

"You stay here. I want to know everything about Corporal Hawthorne from the time he joined the core to when he went missing six months ago." He jabbed the button on the elevator. It opened automatically. "And get those letters to Abby!" He and Tony stepped in. Gibbs hit the button for the basement.

"On your six?" Tony finally had to ask.

Gibbs smirked. "Means he has my back."

"How does that even make any sense?"

Gibbs shook his head. "When you're telling your partner that there's someone suspicious around, how do you usually do it? '_blank _at ten o'clock'."

Tony shook his head, still slightly confused. "So, it's like a clock?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah."

"But why can't he say he's got your back, or he's at your back? 'On your six' sounds kind of…" Gibbs glared. "Weird." He finished.

Gibbs smirked again. "It's an NCIS thing, you wouldn't understand." The elevator opened and the older man walked out. Tony stared after him, slightly confused, before finally following.

They walked through a set of automatic double doors. Tony stopped in the doorway, his jaw dropped. They were standing in the morgue.

Back in Baltimore, the city morgue was about twenty miles away from the precinct. Every time he had to talk to the medical examiner he had to hop in his car and waste a good chunk of gas to do it. But NCIS apparently had their morgue in the basement of the main building. Of course, it figured.

"What've you got, Duck?" Gibbs asked the second he walked inside. Tony turned, completely confused towards the other man.

Standing before him was Dr. Mallard, the elderly doctor he met two nights ago. He was wearing a surgery smock and a strange plastic face mask. That one he didn't understand.

Dr. Mallard looked up in mild surprise. "Jethro, I wasn't expecting you until later. Did something happen?"

Gibbs just nodded. "You find anything useful?"

Dr. Mallard grunted. Apparently he was used to this kind of behavior. "Yes, unfortunately."

"I don't like the sound of that, doctor."

"As well you shouldn't." Gibbs and Dr. Mallard moved around one of the tables. It appeared to be Corporal Kellan Hawthorne. "Detective DiNozzo's suggestion was accurate. It appears that Dr. Baxley's original time of death was wrong. Corporal Hawthorne died six months ago, and then _cooked_ to reheat the liver and dissolve any ice crystals, making it appear as if he's only been dead for merely a few hours."

Tony moved from the doorway during the speech, but stopped dead when he heard that last part. "Cooked?" He asked, slightly nauseated.

Dr. Mallard looked up at him with wide eyes, as if he just realized the young man was standing there. "Detective." Apparently he did. "I didn't notice you."

Tony shrugged. "Helps with tailing people." He moved closer to the older men again. "You said that he was cooked. Like actually, cooked?"

"Didn't you suggest that?" Asked Gibbs.

Tony shrugged again. "Putting it in theory and actually hearing it are two completely different things, Agent Gibbs." Tony shook his head. "But what about the blood? If he was cooked, why was there still so much blood? Unless our killers stopped before he got too well done." He chuckled at his own joke. The other men didn't even bat an eye. He stopped chuckling and cleared his throat.

"That was another thing I noticed. I don't think that Corporal Hawthorne was beaten to death as we first assumed." The two investigators stared at him confused.

"Duck, he doesn't have a face. If he wasn't beaten to death, how could he not have a face?"

"I'm not saying that he wasn't beaten, Jethro, merely that it wasn't the cause of death." He moved over to a lighted wall with x-rays hanging on them. The other two men followed.

Tony could tell they were lungs, but otherwise, he couldn't see anything helpful. He failed his anatomy class. "What are we looking at, Dr. Mallard?"

"Oh, please, call me Ducky." Tony arched an eyebrow.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, an unfortunate nickname from when I was a boy. However, over the years I've become particularly fond of—"

"Duck!" Gibbs yelled. Tony and _Ducky_ stopped. He glared. "What am I seeing here?"

Ducky sighed. "The blunt force trauma occurred before Corporal Hawthorne's untimely demise, but it didn't kill him. His lungs are scarred, as if he was trying to breathe, but the air was too thin. And cold." Tony's eyebrows skyrocketed to his hairline. "I noticed the same problem with our John Doe."

The elderly doctor's eyes were full of pain, and sadness. Tony couldn't blame him. "These poor men were beaten, and then froze to death."

* * *

**Well, yet again, tell me what you think. You guys should know by now I thrive on reviews. Yes it's short, but it was all case-y! That should mean something. **

**And there's one thing I meant to say earlier, Tony talks sometimes about old cases he worked Baltimore because I'm trying to stay relatively canon, and I remeber when watching the official series premiere on JAG, Tony didn't make movie references at all, but he told stories about his old cases. I of course, had to keep him a movie buff, which I don't think was actually part of the show until later on, because it's Tony, and he wouldn't be Tony without his movies.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Well, I just saw the preview for next week's episode (the one with Tony's dad) and I am really excited. I bet it's gonna be awkward. And I have been noticing, I think that Shane Brennan is like Vance. They both like McGee more than Tony. I mean, Truth or Consequences was such a great episode and Tony was intelligent and strong and everything that makes Tony such a likeable character, but ever since, he's been seriously regressing into an incompetant moron. Is it just me, or are they taking away from Tony's x-rated Peter Pan and turning him into... just a juvenile perv?**

**Anyways, since I miss the old Tony, I thought I would update again, well that and I was satisfied with my reviews, lol. It's longer than the last chapter, but not exactly very long in general.**

* * *

**Eleven**

Dennis jerked awake. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep. "Damn it!" He jumped off the couch and ran towards the back of the house where his mother's bedroom was. He stopped when he saw Lea quietly shut the door behind her. She turned to him, eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep.

It took him a moment for his heart to slow back to normal, and then another minute before he could find his voice. "How is she?"

Lea shook her head. "Freaking out. I had to tell her about the case."

"You did what?" He was ten seconds away from hitting her.

"What was I supposed to do? She heard you come back inside last night, she was worried!"

"Lie to her!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I can't lie to mom, and you know it!"

Dennis sighed. He didn't want his mom to know any of this. He rubbed his eyes. He was still exhausted. He didn't know how much sleep he got last night, but he doubted it was all that much. But it would have to do until they solved the case. "I have to drive up to Washington today." He didn't want to, but he didn't have a choice. As soon as the interview was done, he had to hit the road.

Lea nodded. "I know, Agent Gibbs told me." Dennis stared at her wide eyed. "I called my captain, he's sending a guy over to watch over mom, and he gave me permission to stay with her too."

Dennis rolled his head around in exasperation. "Oh great, a patrol cop who's never fired a gun is supposed to protect my mother!"

"That's any worse than a detective who's never find a gun?"

"I at least know how to shoot one!"

"I have better aim that you!"

Dennis scoffed. "Please, Lea, I'm better than you at _everything_."

Lea rolled her eyes. "I'm a better shot, better knife fighter, and I can kick your ass! Add it all up, you just sound pathetic." He smacked her in the arm. "Ow!" She punched him, a lot harder, in the shoulder.

He whined. "I didn't hit you that hard!" He rubbed the spot that she hit. It still stung.

Lea glared at him for another five seconds. Then she burst out laughing. She shook her head and wiped a tear out of her eye. Some of the tension left Dennis as he started giggling. And that just made Lea laugh harder.

"You giggled!"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He turned and walked away from her. She always made fun of him for his laugh. She thought it was weird that a big tough guy jock giggled when he laughed. It always just made him want to beat her harder. If he was ever able to beat her after she turned sixteen.

Much to his displeasure, she followed him. "So when are you heading up to Washington?"

He looked down at his watch. He silently cursed. His interview with Quail's boss was in half an hour. "In another hour or so, I guess. But I gotta get going. I have something I have to take care of before I go." He turned to face her and lay his hand on top of her head. Using his thumb, he made the sign of the cross on her forehead. She just rolled her eyes at him.

"Agent Gibbs wanted me to tell you to pick up Agent Burley on your way out."

"I was planning on it." Lea eyed him suspiciously. "What?" His hand went to check his hair.

"You just smiled when I mentioned Agent Burley."

Dennis dropped his hand. "No I didn't." At least he didn't think he did.

"I was looking right at you, Den, I saw you smile." Her lips quirked up. "I thought Tony was just busting your balls when he said that you were flirting with him." Dennis turned away. He so did not want to have this conversation with his sister. "You actually like him, don't you?" Lea asked as she followed him to the door.

Dennis turned around and glared. Lea just smiled back. It was cocky, and very much like one of his own. Lea would tell him repeatedly that when he smiled like that, it made the person he was with want to beat him to a bloody pulp. Now he could see why.

He sighed heavily. "He knows, and he doesn't care. It's nice."

Lea's smile faded. "Neither would Tony. If, you know, you ever had the balls to tell him." She turned on her heel and walked back into the house. Dennis sighed heavily. This wasn't the first time he's had that conversation with her. Every time she told him the same thing. Tony was his best friend, he would accept him no matter what. But Dennis somehow doubted that a womanizer like Anthony DiNozzo would just 'accept' that his best friend was in love with him.

With a heavy breath, he opened the door and walked out.

*~*

Tony and Ducky stared at the body of Corporal Hawthorne. Ducky gave Tony one of his weird face guard thingies. Most people would probably be on the verge of vomiting, considering Hawthorne didn't have a face. But Tony didn't really care. Actually he had seen even worse than this. People in Baltimore were sick.

Ducky held up Hawthorne's right hand. "You see here," he said, pointing to his fingertips.

"They're bloody. Really bloody." The skin was cracked, dirty.

"Yes, and at least three fingernails were ripped off." Ducky lowered the hand.

Tony thought for a second as things settled. "He tried to claw his way out of something?"

"That would be my assumption. If I had to guess, he was conscious for a while, trying to escape the cold." Tony's stomach clenched. He pushed it down, but he still felt a little queasy.

"What about our John Doe?" He moved away from Hawthorne to the other body. Now that he was clean, he could see just how much damage had been done to his face. "Is there any chance for DMV records?"

Ducky sighed. "The damage done to this poor boy was just as extensive as our Marine Corporal. I'm afraid that most facial recognition paths are off the table."

Tony groaned. "Damn." He really hoped that Langer didn't need to hear about that. "What about dental records?"

Ducky made a strange noise at the back of his throat. Without hesitation, he reached into John Doe's mouth and parted his lips. Tony looked down to see several cracked and missing teeth. He stood up straighter and sighed heavily. "So, you're saying that we're stuck with DNA and fingerprints."

"I'm afraid so, Detective."

"Call me Tony." He never took his eyes off the body.

Ducky's next words came out with a hint of a quiver. "He was young. I'd estimate he was between twenty and twenty-three."

"He was twenty-two." He finally looked up. Ducky was staring at him in awe again. He was really getting sick of those looks. "Hawthorne was twenty-four, Quail was twenty-three, and Daxon was twenty-one."

Ducky's eyes glazed over. "That actually makes sense. When I went back and recalculated the times of death, this young boy died two months ago."

"Our killers have been killing every two months for the last six months."

Ducky moved away, taking his funny face guard off. "I doubt that Corporal Hawthorne was their first victim."

"You think they've killed before?"

Ducky turned around as he approached the sink. "They? There's more than one?"

"According to the canvas there was."

Ducky sighed heavily again. "Well, yes, it appears that by the time they reached Corporal Hawthorne, they were old pros."

Tony pulled his face guard off. "Thank you doctor." He started heading for the exit.

"Anthony!" Tony stopped, only slightly surprised that the old man used his full name. Only his father ever used his full name. And he hadn't spoken to that man in years. They had a complicated relationship, to say the least. "There's one other thing. I found something inside of our John Doe's veins."

"What was it?"

Ducky moved until he was nose to chest with the young cop. "A small piece of paper. I already sent it up to Abby for analysis."

Tony almost stopped listening after the 'paper'. It was one hell of a coincidence. "Where's Abby?"

"The floor right above us. You get out of the elevator and her lab is right there." Tony nodded before he started walking. "Although." Sighing heavily, Tony turned around as the doctor spoke again. "I would watch myself around her if I were you. She's been in a particularly foul mood ever since that forensic technician from Baltimore showed up."

Tony chuckled. He couldn't wait to meet this woman. She was probably some old cranky divorcee, with a couple of rugrats running around. He always loved starting things with those women. He had the ability to pretty much piss off any person within a five mile radius of him.

He exited the elevator a floor above the morgue. The first thing he noticed was the incredibly loud noise coming from the lab. He couldn't call it music. He didn't even know what it was. It just sounded like someone was grinding saws across a guitar and trying to scream over that. Slowly and cautiously, he entered the lab.

Clay stood there, his face was purple from anger. Tony chuckled. Clay was a damn good forensic tech, he'd been one for about fifteen years. He was also the kind of guy who didn't take crap from anybody.

Standing before Clay, however, was someone Tony did not expect. She was young, probably around his age or so. She was wearing a black mini skirt, platform boots, and a lab coat. Her unnaturally dark hair was put up in high pigtails.

She was a forensic scientist?

"I don't care what some stupid little Baltimore detective said, I want you out of my lab!"

"I don't give a damn what you want, I'm not here to indulge you, I'm here to do my job!"

Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"Well I can't do my job with you breathing down my neck!"

"I'm not breathing down your neck, I'm doing my own work. You just have a problem working with other people."

"No, I have a problem with little goofy looking guys using my equipment without my permission, and treating me like a child!"

"Maybe I'd stop treating you like a child if you stopped acting like one. I am here because Detective DiNozzo requested it, and Agent Gibbs approved it." He added the last part when it seemed like she was going to complain again. "If you have a problem, you take it up with them."

The woman continued to glare at him. Finally, Tony couldn't take anymore. "I hope I'm not interrupting something." The two of them whirled around to face him. Clay looked relieved. The woman looked like she was ready to kill him. Tony noticed that she was wearing a leather spiked dog collar.

"Who the hell are you?"

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room. "Detective Anthony DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide." If it was possible, the woman's look turned even more murderous.

"Oh, so you're the bastard who sent this chump into my lab!" She moved closer. "Just who do you think you are, Mister? I don't need help, and I resent that some lousy homicide detective questions my abilities as a forensic scientist!"

Behind them, Clay threw his head back in frustration. Tony chuckled. The woman in front of him glared harder. "You think this is funny?"

"Well, yeah, a little."

She stepped further into his personal space. "Just so you know, I am one of the only people in the _world_, who can kill you without leaving any forensic evidence."

That peaked Clay's interest. "Did you just threaten a cop?"

But Tony just smiled. "You have to actually kill me first. I put up one helluva fight." She continued to glare at him. "So, Abby, right?"

She didn't say anything. Tony turned to Clay for confirmation. The older man rolled his eyes before he answered. "Abby Scuito."

Tony turned back to the crazy goth woman in front of him. "Nice to meet you." He held out his hand for her to take. But she turned away from him.

"Where's Gibbs?" She asked.

Tony sighed heavily before answering. "Said he was going to get coffee."

When Abby reached her computer table, she wheeled around and crossed her arms over her chest. "Great, I'll wait."

Tony chuckled. This was going to be difficult. "He's not getting coffee. Well, ok, he might be, but that's more of a side trip than his actual destination."

Abby continued to glare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"He went over to the J. Edgar Hoover building." Tony shrugged. "Me and my partner worked a case with the FBI a few months ago. He's checking up on me." Clay shook his head with a smile on his face. By now he was used to Tony's ways. But Abby wasn't. She continued to glare.

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"Because he stole my mail." He noticed after he got back in the squad room yesterday that the letter he tore up was missing. He didn't say anything, he didn't' want Gibbs to know that he knew. That usually led to questions. "Dr. Mallard said he sent you up a piece of paper he found in Corporal Hawthorne?"

Abby still kept glaring at him. Tony was really getting tired of it. Really tired of it. He turned to Clay, hoping he'd give him something actually useful. The older man stepped closer. "It was difficult, the paper was covered in blood." He moved next to Abby.

Tony stepped closer. "That doesn't surprise me, it was found in the man's vein. Were you able to decipher it?"

"With difficulty." Clay made sure to point that out. "But, we finally managed to get a message." After clicking a few keys the note came up on his computer monitor. Tony stepped closer so he could read it better.

The queasy feeling came back.

_Four, five, six, how will they fix?_

**I would just like to say to everyone who doesn't like Dennis' private life, this will be the last chapter to include any of his family. And I hope that you enjoyed Tony's first meeting with Abby! I thought it sounded realistic, since Abby does not like people invading her lab. Well, and she didn't like Tony very much when they first met.**

**Hope you enjoyed, and yet again, review. Now for the bribe. The more you review, the faster I update, and the sooner you find out about the Incident. And I know you all wanna know about the Incident.**

**Bob**


	13. Chapter 12

**I really love how so many people love this story! It warms me inside, I mean, it is really hard to disappoint you guys, so I won't (yet *eyes shift conspicously*). Here is chapter 12, one more chapter closer to finding out about the incident. And I will let you know, it's chapter fifteen! So, three more chapters and you will know about the incident. So... hint hint, big smiley!**

* * *

**Twelve**

Jethro made his way through the halls. He rarely ever went to the J. Edgar Hoover building. Actually, he avoided it as much as possible. He hated the FBI. And he especially hated Fornell. He couldn't deny, he was looking forward to shoving the letter in Fornell's face.

He made it to the older man's office. Tobias Fornell was older than Jethro, and looked even older than that. He was short with thinning hair. He sat behind a large stack of paper work. Jethro chuckled to himself. He never let his paperwork get that bad. "How do you ever make it out into the field?"

Fornell looked up, slightly bewildered. "Agent Gibbs." He leaned back in his leather chair. That was one thing that Jethro didn't have. His chair was ok, but it was nothing to Fornell's. "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

Jethro stepped further into the room. "Tony DiNozzo." He sat down in the seat across from the other man.

Fornell's forehead creased in confusion. "Detective up in Baltimore, right?"

"Well you should know." Jethro pulled out DiNozzo's letter that he stole. He dropped it on the desk. "Eighth attempts, Tobias, really?"

Fornell tensed up. "Where did you get this?" He picked up the letter and stared at it.

"DiNozzo's trash can. He tore it up without even looking at it." He threw the last part in just for fun.

Fornell tensed again. "What were you doing going through DiNozzo's trash?" Jethro noticed the older man put a particular emphasis on the cop's name.

"I'm working a case with him. Four dead bodies, one of them a Marine." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why did you send him eight job offers, Tobias?"

Fornell glared. "That's not really any of your business, Jethro."

"I want to know if I can trust this guy I'm forced to work with."

"You can."

Jethro chuckled. "Well it would help if I knew why you're so fond of him. What did he do?"

The two of them were locked in a staring contest. Both of them were complete hard asses who could make grown men cry with just a look. Fornell was pretty much just a shorter—and less attractive—version of Jethro. Now the question was, who would break first?

"Mike Macaluso." Fornell finally said. He leaned against his desk, not meeting Jethro's eyes. "Italian Mafia boss." He sighed heavily. Whatever he was about to say obviously pained him. "I had one of my men deep cover in Macaluso's family for two years." He shook his head. "Never got near the man. Finally, his cover was blown, and Macaluso had him killed. Detectives DiNozzo and his partner, Detective Morgan investigated the murder of his alias, Joe Manetti." He sighed again.

"When did yo finally come clean that he was your agent?"

"I didn't. They found out. No DNA results, just good ole' fashioned police work. They confronted me, and we agreed that we needed somebody else in Maculuso's family."

"You sent a cop undercover after your agent was murdered?" Jethro couldn't believe how reckless Fornell had been.

The older man looked up, he wasn't glaring, but the anger was very visible. "It was his idea! He wanted to throw the son of a bitch in prison almost as bad as I did. That bastard murdered one of my men, I wasn't going to stop until I saw him rotting in jail!"

Jethro didn't react to the outburst. "So what happened?"

It took a moment for Fornell to calm down so he could finish his story. "DiNozzo was under for a month. In that time, he climbed up the ranks and managed to weasel himself at Macaluso's side. DiNozzo became a member of his family. The kind of dirt he got on _everyone_ in that organization." He shook his head, only this time in awe. "I've never seen anybody so good at undercover work before in my life."

"So that's why you've been trying to hire him. You wanna turn him into a mole."

"He's a good cop, Jethro. But yes, if he could even get half of the results he got on the Macaluso case, we could wipe the Italian Mafia completely out of Washington."

"Is that why he keeps turning you down? Because he doesn't wanna be the Bureau's mole?"

Fornell chuckled. "Actually he enjoyed the undercover work." He leaned back again. "No, he doesn't want the job because I didn't offer one to his partner."

That confused Jethro. He read the letter four times last night, what Fornell was offering was an amazing deal. And he was throwing it away for his partner?

"Apparently, he doesn't want to leave Detective Morgan behind." Fornell shrugged, as if reading Jethro's mind. "Something about brotherhood or some other type of B.S."

"So why didn't you offer a position to Detective Morgan?"

"It wasn't my call. Morgan's a good cop, but honestly, if it wasn't for DiNozzo, he'd still be picking up drunks and addicts off the street and throwing them in lockup."

Jethro's eyes lowered. "When did all of this happen?"

Fornell looked like he didn't really understand the question. "Four months ago."

That couldn't have been the case that made DiNozzo and Morgan detectives. That happened a year ago. They got the Macaluso case after they made detective, hell after DiNozzo was made a lead detective. This wasn't the whole picture, it was just another puzzle piece.

Jethro sighed. He nodded his thanks and walked out of the office.

*~*

Dennis sat in the waiting room, tapping a pen he picked up at the receptionist's desk on the closest hard surface—which turned out to be an end table—incessantly. He was bored, and he was getting tired of waiting. As soon as this interview was done he was being forced to drive up to Washington D.C. to hang around at NCIS while Gibbs and Tony bonded.

He tapped even harder as a wave of jealousy overtook him. Stan, who apparently decided he'd had enough, grabbed his wrist to stop him. Dennis mumbled his apology.

About five minutes later, the receptionist stood up. The two men sat up straighter. "Mr. Harker will see you now." Dennis almost groaned in relief.

He jumped up and practically ran towards the door to the left of the reception desk. It led straight to Harker's office.

Harker was an intimidating man. He looked like he didn't even know how to smile. He kind of reminded Dennis of Gibbs. He was standing behind his desk with his hands at his sides in a Superman like pose. If that didn't make Dennis want to burst out laughing, the handlebar mustache sure as hell did.

"Gentlemen, Jonathon Harker, how may I help you?"

Dennis and Stan pulled out their badges. "Detective Dennis Morgan, Baltimore Homicide. This is Special Agent Stan Burley, NCIS. We wanted to ask you a few questions about one of your employees, Donovan Quail?"

Harker nodded. "Yes, Mina said that you found him." He sat down and leaned back in his chair.

Dennis took a seat, even though Harker failed to offer one. "Last night. He's dead."

Harker's jaw dropped open. He leaned forward. "Dead? How?"

"Preliminary findings say that he was stabbed to death."

"Oh my word. Who would do such a thing?" Harker looked genuinely upset about this news.

"How well did you know Donovan?"

It took a moment for Harker to answer. He seriously looked like he was hanging by a thread. When he finally snapped out of his daze, it took him another second to remember the question. "Oh, um, he had only been working for me for a few months before he went missing. He was fresh out of college." He sighed heavily, twirling his wedding ring between his thumb and forefinger. "He was a bright kid." Dennis watched the man in front of him.

"What can you tell me about Donovan's family life?"

Harker shook his head. "Donovan didn't have a family. His parents were murdered when he was only a small boy. After that he was in and out of foster homes until he was eighteen. He was smart, got into college on a full scholarship. He did an internship here his junior year. He kept to himself, but his work was good. When he applied for a full time position after school was over, I accepted." He shrugged. "There was a younger sister, but she died about a year ago."

"How?"

"Churg Straus. It's an extremely dangerous autoimmune disease. They couldn't afford treatment, and she just… wasted away."

Dennis' lips tightened a fraction. "You said he kept to himself."

Harker nodded. "That's correct."

"Did he have any friends?"

Harker shook his head. "Sadly, he never really connected with anyone. A few people tried, but," he paused. "He had such a hard time opening up. After what happened to his parents, I'm sure you can understand."

Dennis nodded. "What did happen to his parents?"

"They were killed in a home invasion. Some drug addict broke into their home, looking for money or things to sell. Donovan's father tried to fight him off, but the bastard stabbed him." He shook his head in pity again. "His mother was even worse. He raped her before he killed her. Poor Donovan saw the whole thing."

"That's horrible." Stan finally said. For the most part, he chose to remain quiet and just listen.

Harker nodded in agreement. Dennis continued to stare at him. "Exactly how long was Donovan working here before he went missing?"

Harker looked to the ceiling, lost in thought. "Probably about six months, give or take a few days." When he looked back at the two men, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, is there anything else I can help you with?"

Stan was the one who spoke. "What exactly does Donovan do here?"

"He's a programmer."

"We're going to need to take a look at his belongings."

Harker nodded. "Of course." He stood up. "I can lead the way."

Dennis stood. "Well, actually, Mr. Harker, if you just point us in the right direction, I'm sure we'll find the way on our own."

The older man's forehead creased in confusion. "I don't—"

Dennis cut him off. "I'm sure you have a lot of work to do. We don't want to impose." He smiled as kindly as he possibly could. Next to him, Stan looked just as confused as Harker. Dennis would explain later.

Harker nodded. "Yes, quite right. It's the cubicle over in the corner." He pointed. "It has his name on it, it shouldn't be too difficult to find."

Dennis nodded. "Thank you for your help." Without waiting for a reply, he left the office and headed for the right cubicle.

Stan caught in quickly. "Wanna tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" He spoke softly, so as to not alert any of the employees.

Dennis leaned in closer. "Harker said that Donovan was a loner, didn't open up."

"Right, I heard that."

"So how did he know so much about the guy?"

Stan stopped walking. Dennis kept moving until he reached Quail's desk. It looked like any other young guy's belongings. Sports paraphernalia, papers all over the place. It was a complete mess.

There was a single picture on the desk. Dennis pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on before lifting it. He smiled. "So that's what you looked like."

It was a picture of Quail and a young woman, who Dennis assumed was the little sister. They looked happy in the picture. Dennis sighed heavily. It was sad. Quail was just a baby, and already he had suffered so much. Not even his death could be easy.

Stan finally graced him with his presence. "You think Harker made the whole thing up?"

"I think he was telling the truth." He turned to look at the other man. "It's how he found out that worries me." He put the picture down.

Stan was quiet as they started searching the desk. After a moment he finally spoke. "You think he was stalking Quail?"

Dennis shrugged. "I don't know, but I do wanna take a better look at him."

"I can call ahead, have Langer do it while we drive up."

Dennis nodded. "Wait a little while on that though, we might find something else here, and I don't want Harker getting wind of this." They were quiet again. Dennis reached across the desk to grab something. His hand hit the picture, knocking it over.

He stopped. Something was off. He picked the picture back up. Stan stopped going through Quail's desk and just stared at him, but Dennis ignored him. "What's up?" Stan asked.

Dennis couldn't quite place it. But something was wrong with the back plate. The little locks looked… used. The picture had to have been at least a year old, maybe longer, he would have no reason to switch it out.

He pulled the plate off. There was only one picture in the frame, but in front of that was something else. A small piece of paper.

Stan stood up and leaned over his shoulder. "What is that?"

Dennis took it out and unfolded it. "The next part of the poem."

* * *

**Well, let me know what you think! Now, what I remember of Gibbs and Fornell from the first season, they didn't really get along, they weren't the friends that they are now, so I figured I would play on that. And Mike Macaluso is a legitimate old case for Tony! He was mentioned in the episode Frame Up, I was watching a rerun of that episode and I thought "Yes! I could use that! Sweetness!" **

**So, last chapter, I got 28 reviews and I posted like 24 or so hours later, imagine, if I got more reviews than that.... You know you guys wanna know about the incident, and you should all know by now that I love indulging you guys! Let me indulge!**

**Bob**


	14. Chapter 13

**My goal is to reach 300 reviews, preferably by the next two chapters. Now, I just want to let everyone know, I have finished writing up to chapter 18, and am currently writing chapter 19. But because I'm so far ahead, and I got a lot of fantastic reviews for last chapter, I'm updating. After a day! You see? I told you guys I like to indulge you, and so I indulge.**

**On another NCIS related note, I don't think I can wait until Tuesday to find out about Tony's dad! The wait is killing me! See, I have a theory, I don't think that DiNozzo Sr. was physically abusive, and judging by the previews, it doesn't look like he is. I don't think he is the best of fathers, but I think his relationship with Tony is more like Chase's relationship with his dad on _House_, lonliness and neglect. But I guess we'll find out on Tuesday, won't we? So until then, you're stuck with me! lol.**

* * *

**Thirteen**

Tony paced around Abby's lab with his cell phone stuck to his ear. He was trying to get a hold of somebody, anybody. With Dennis, the call kept going straight to voicemail. With Gibbs, it just kept ringing and ringing.

"Set up your damn voicemail!" He yelled as he tossed the phone at Clay. It was awkward, but the man eventually caught it. "How the hell does he not have voicemail? What kind of cop doesn't have voicemail?"

"Actually," Abby started, shrinking back as Tony's voice got louder. "I don't think he knows how to set it up."

Tony looked at her like she was insane. "Are you serious?"

Abby arched her eyebrows. "You met him, right?"

Tony rolled his head around. He was getting angrier the longer he was forced to wait. "This is ridiculous! Denny's not picking up his damn cell phone, Gibbs doesn't know how to work voicemail, and our serial killer lodged a freakin' note in Hawthorne's freakin' _vein_!" He stopped. Something didn't feel right.

"Four, five, six." He said, staring off into space.

The two scientists stared at him, completely confused. "What?" Asked Abby.

He turned to face them. "Four, five, six, how will they fix!" He moved and grabbed Abby by the shoulders.

She yelped. "Hey, you caveman! Get your hands off of me!"

"It's the next part of the poem!"

He released her and swiveled around. On the table in front of him were the two original letters that he and Denny found on their cars. He picked up the first one. He practically shoved it right in Abby's face.

"Hey!"

"If you run this blood, I guarantee that it'll come back as Kellan Hawthorne's blood."

"You assume, but I can prove or disprove it!"

"Then prove it!"

Abby pushed the bag out of her face. She glared at him. "Not until you tell me what this is about!"

Tony glared right back. It didn't look like Abby was going to cave anytime soon. Fed up, he held the bag out for Clay. "Run it," he said to the man without pulling his eyes off the woman. Her glare intensified.

"This is my lab, buster!"

"Four, five, six, how will they fix?" He repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time. "It's the next part of the poem."

"Yeah, I know!" She yelled. Judging by the tone, she felt he was insinuating something about her. Probably what most people insinuated about him when they first met him, because she was young, she must be incompetent.

"But how? How did the killers possibly know that this would be the next clue we found?" Abby's already big green eyes widened further. "The letters on mine and Denny's cars were written in blood."

A smile spread across the Goth's lips. "The first letter was written in Corporal Hawthorne's blood, as a _clue_ to where the next clue was!" She literally bounced away from him and over to her computer. "You're not as bad as I thought, Detective DiNozzo."

Tony moved to stand next to her, staring over her shoulder. "You can call me Tony." He genuinely smiled at the girl for the first time since he entered her lab.

Next to him, Clay sighed heavily. "Quit flirting DiNozzo."

Tony arched his eyebrow. "If you think that's flirting, we are definitely going to have to work on your social skills."

Abby chuckled. Clay looked like he was about to kill him.

The computer pinged. There was a ninety nine point ninety-nine percent match in the DNA. To Corporal Hawthorne.

Clay's jaw dropped. "I'll be damned."

Abby grinned at him. "Not bad for a local LEO." Tony had absolutely no idea what that meant, but decided against asking. He could Google it later, if need be.

His phone rang.

"DiNozzo." He said after he retrieved it from Clay.

"I got another part of the poem!" That was Denny's voice.

All of the excitement they felt before left his body. He turned back to the forensic scientists. They were watching him in curiosity. "Where?"

"Donovan Quail's cubicle at work. Burley and I are on our way to Washington with the note."

"What's it say?"

There was a small pause before he heard Denny speak again. "Many despicable antics? I don't really know what that's supposed to mean."

Tony rubbed his eyebrow. "It's a continuation. Ducky found the third part of the poem in Hawthorne's body, you got the fourth part." He covered the microphone on his cell for a second and turned to the other occupants in the room. "Run the blood on the note found on my car, and then start running everything you can on the note Ducky found."

"Who the hell is Ducky?" Denny asked.

Tony uncovered the mike. "Dr. Mallard, apparently he likes to be called Ducky."

"Weird."

"Yeah, hey, Den. You actually learn anything about Quail while you were at his office?" He was starting to get agitated. Where the hell was Gibbs?

"Yeah, he was a loner, and his boss was stalking him."

"Give me his name, I'll get Langer to run him." He pulled out his notebook and pen.

"Jonathon Harker."

He stopped.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

Denny was hesitant asking. "No, why?"

Tony just laughed. "Come on, man! Dracula. Jonathon Harker, he was a character in _Dracula_." Silence. "He was played by Keanu Reeves? The movie won three Oscars, how do you not know it?" He shook his head. "Forget it. Look, forget coming back to Washington."

"What?"

"The third part of the poem was found in Hawthorne's body, the fourth at Quail's cubicle. The poem is still going. I want you to go through all of Daxon's belongings, talk to Baxley, see if there's a message on the body, anything. As soon as we get an I.D. on our John Doe, I'll call you."

"What about the note?"

"Send a courier when you get back." He figured Gibbs wouldn't be happy with him, but for once the man was actually going to listen to him.

"Are you sure you don't want me up there?"

Tony nodded, even though Denny couldn't possibly see it. "Yeah. I don't wanna waste any time by having to drive to and from Baltimore just to please Gibbs."

"Alright. We're heading back now. Call me when you get the last I.D. understand?"

"Yeah." Tony was about to hang up when a thought struck him. "Hey, Den."

"What Tony?"

He sighed heavily before he responded. "Be careful." His voice was etched in worry. But he didn't think anyone could blame him. The events of the last two days were pretty hard to stomach for all of them.

"I will."

He hung up. He rubbed his eyes before he turned back to Clay and Abby. Clay was analyzing the notes like he asked. Abby, on the other hand was staring at him, her face flooded with concern. "What—"

Before he could finish, Abby threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He groaned.

"I know I don't really like you, but I thought you could use a hug right about now."

He really didn't know what to do. He'd been hugged before, hell he practically grew up with Mary Mancona, he was used to huggers before, but he wasn't used to hugs from complete strangers who, up until five seconds ago could barely stand to be in the same room as him.

Finally he settled on awkwardly patting her back until she pulled away. "I have to get back to work." She said as she awkwardly made her way over to her computer again. Tony almost forgot she was wearing platform shoes. How she managed to move in those things at all, he would probably never know.

He stood and watched impatiently for a few seconds before he groaned. "Where the hell is that bastard?!" He swiveled around, planning on stalking out the door. Only that plan was foiled when he saw Agent Gibbs standing behind him, holding a coffee cup in his hands. In typical Gibbs behavior, he was scowling.

"Were you talking about this bastard?"

Tony glared as he stepped closer to the older man. "Have a nice chat with Agent Fornell?" He looked down at the cup. "You didn't get me one?" He scoffed as he moved around him. Gibbs followed a second later.

"Abby find anything?" He asked as they reached the elevator.

"Fornell tell you anything interesting?"

"Yeah, he did." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. The elevator arrived, so the two men climbed on. "So, what did Abby find?"

"The third part of the poem. Denny and Burley found the fourth at Quail's office."

"When are they going to be here?"

Tony sighed heavily before he answered. "They're not." He could feel Gibbs glaring daggers at his head, but he refused to turn to face him. That would just be asking for trouble. Or possibly death.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gibbs reach out and hit the emergency switch. The lights dimmed as the machine stopped. He gulped.

With no other option, he turned to face the purpling man before him. "Why the hell not?" Gibbs practically shouted.

"I told them to stay in Baltimore."

"Without telling me!"

"You weren't here to tell!" Tony let his fingers casually drift over his gun. He had a feeling that things could go badly very quickly, he wanted to at least be prepared.

"Our deal was you run everything by me before making a decision."

"And had you actually been here instead of checking up on me, I would have. Our killers have been one step ahead of us for the last two days! The notes me and Denny found last night, that was just the first part. Another note was found _in _Hawthorne, Denny found the fourth part of the poem at Quail's office. There's more to it, and it's in Baltimore! Bringing everybody to Washington is a mistake, and you know it!"

The two of them were silent. They continued to glare at each other for a few minutes, neither speaking, or breaking the eye contact.

Gibbs' phone rang, breaking the tension in the room. He pulled the phone out and put it to his ear. "Yeah, Gibbs."

Tony couldn't make out what was actually being said, but he could tell who was on the phone. Ducky.

"Thanks Ducky." He hung up.

"He find anything?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah." He flicked the emergency switch again. "Our John Doe's name is James Macy, age twenty-two. When we get back to the squad room, I want you to find his address. Use Burley's desk, since he isn't going to be using it any time soon." He still sounded angry, but also like he was seceding.

Tony took that as a good sign. "I'm gonna need his password."

"Felicia."

Tony scrunched his forehead. "Felicia?"

Gibbs nodded. "Old girlfriend, never bothered to change it." The doors opened. Gibbs strode out quickly, forcing the younger man to follow.

"Our John Doe's name is James Macy!" He called to Langer. Although, the floor was full, so just about anybody heard what he said. "DiNozzo get the—"

Tony cut him off before he could finish "Address, yeah I know, I heard you the first time." He moved into the area and stopped. "Which one is Burley's desk?"

* * *

**So? Do you like it? Did I do good? Even if you don't, I would appreciate reviews. And I'm resorting to bribery again. Two more chapters until you find out about the incident! Can you wait a long time to find out? Can you wait for Tony to come clean to Gibbs about what happened a year ago to cause tears in his eyes? Can you wait to find out what could possibly happen to our heroes in the five chapters that I've already written? If you can, then don't bother reviewing. But.... if you can't... **

**Bob**


	15. Chapter 14

**46 reviews last chapter! 46! Bribery works! I gotta say you guys are awesome, I'm having a little trouble writing the latest chapter. It's really... well, you'll know when we get there. On a bright note, ONE MORE CHAPTER TILL THE INCIDENT! So close! So close!**

* * *

**Fourteen**

It only took DiNozzo about ten minutes to get the address for James Macy. They were both pretty surprised to find out he lived in D.C. Langer tried to follow them out again, but Jethro refused to let him go. The poor bastard tried to yell at him about the injustice of it. Jethro glared harder than usual until the man just about wet himself.

The two men were in the NCIS sedan, driving through an over abundance of traffic. Jethro was surprised that it was already four o'clock. Which meant they were driving right through rush hour.

Two hours alone in a car with Tony DiNozzo was quite possibly the most agonizing thing that Jethro ever did. He never stopped moving, he only stopped talking long enough to catch his breath.

"DiNozzo, you say one more word and I'm ripping your tongue out of your mouth." He finally said. That shut the younger man up. Jethro breathed a sigh of relief.

They pulled into Macy's apartment complex soon after. It was a rundown building in a bad part of town. Most likely it was cheap, Macy was still a kid, so he probably couldn't afford much more.

They made their way to the third floor. The stairwell smelled like urine and vomit. Both men handled it pretty well, but secretly, Jethro held his breath for most of the trip.

They finally reached the right apartment. The paint on the door was chipping, and the wood looked severely rotted. DiNozzo leaned against the frame. Jethro turned to him. "Detective DiNozzo, how would you get into this apartment?"

The younger man's eyes squeezed into slits. "Legally or illegally?"

Jethro scowled. "Fast."

DiNozzo smiled. He pushed off the frame and stood in front of the door. With one hand on the knob, he threw his shoulder into the wood. It flew open, much easier than he had anticipated, which sent him falling to the floor.

He groaned in pain, lying on top of broken and splintered wood. Jethro stared down at him with a smile on his face. "Not bad." He said.

"Ow," was all DiNozzo could respond.

Ignoring him, Jethro stepped into the apartment and took a look around. It looked like your typical bachelor pad, complete with empty pizza boxes and take out containers scattered about. Macy had been dead for two months. Jethro really didn't want to look inside of those.

Behind him, DiNozzo slowly climbed to his feet. "Apparently the wood was more rotted than I had anticipated."

"Apparently." Jethro stared around at the mix-matched furniture. Something wasn't fitting well with him. "Macy was from D.C. Why drive him all the way back to Baltimore?"

DiNozzo stood next to him, taking everything in as well. "He wanted Baltimore to investigate."

"Baltimore, or you?"

The younger man didn't answer. Instead he crouched down and stared at the pathetic excuse of a coffee table in the middle of the room. Jethro rolled his eyes. "Put on a pair of gloves before you touch anything." He said, pulling a pair out of his pocket.

"Which rule is that?" DiNozzo asked, doing the same thing.

"Two, always were gloves at a crime scene."

"You ever think of teaching the rules in order?" Jethro glared down at him. DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "Shutting up." He picked up a magazine before he stood up.

Jethro stared at the cover. It was a Playboy. Rolling his eyes, he reached up, planning on smacking the shit out of DiNozzo. "There are some pages missing." Jethro stopped midair as the cop spoke. He turned to Jethro, his face slightly bothered.

"How can you tell that?" Jethro asked, dropping his hand.

DiNozzo held the magazine higher. "I have this issue. I remember it being a lot thicker." He looked through it again. Every once in a while, he pointed to where the pages were torn, a bit of the paper still clung at some points along the seam.

Jethro stared into space, contemplating. The last two clues were well hidden. One in Hawthorne's body, and the other was hidden behind a photograph on Quail's desk. The first two clues were written in blood, but the last two were written in pen.

It finally clicked. "He used the magazine to write the next part of the poem."

DiNozzo's face scrunched up again. "You mean like the Zodiac killer?"

That threw Jethro for a loop. "You know who the Zodiac killer is?" He wasn't expecting that.

"I saw the movie."

Jethro rolled his eyes. "Of course you did." He said in a gust of air. He started searching around the apartment. This time, with more of a purpose.

DiNozzo continued to stand still as he thought things over. "The Zodiac killer used newspaper clippings to taunt the police, you can't identify penmanship if there's no penmanship."

"Are you just gonna talk, or are you gonna help me look for it?" Jethro all but screamed.

DiNozzo apparently didn't hear him. "What's this guy's style? The only thing connecting his victims is that they all male, and they seemingly don't have any family."

"They're all young."

"Yeah, and that's the only way he's been meticulous this entire case." He paused.

"I don't know, the way he kills them is pretty meticulous."

DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "I mean, they don't look alike they don't hang in the same circles. It's like he chooses them at random, except they're not. He has an agenda. I just don't know what it is yet."

"He doesn't want you to know." His words came out slower. Jethro stared at the stereo. It was the nicest, newest thing in the entire apartment. But the left speaker had slight damage to it. Scratch marks. DiNozzo was right, he wasn't meticulous. But he wasn't meticulous on purpose.

He was toying with them.

"You got a knife on you?" He asked as he picked the speaker up and carried it into the middle of the room.

"What rule number is that?" He didn't sound all that annoyed this time. Mostly embarrassed. Jethro guessed he didn't like being unprepared in front of him.

He quirked a small smile. "Rule nine. Never go anywhere without—" He was cut off by the familiar _click_ of a switchblade being opened. Two inches from his face, DiNozzo held the knife, it was small, the blade was only about three inches long. But it was also well taken care of. The blade was sharp, there wasn't a single knick or scratch across the entire thing. "A knife." He finished, taking the proffered machine. DiNozzo just smiled smugly at him.

He stuck the tip into the small crack at the side of the speaker. "If you have a rule about carrying a knife, how come you don't have one?" DiNozzo asked as the front popped off.

Jethro handed it over to the younger man before he spoke. "I have more than one. I just wanted to make sure you had one."

Sure enough, he was right. Sitting inside, folded into quarters, was the next note. DiNozzo sighed. "I'm really getting sick of these guys."

"You and me both." He picked it up, letting the rest of the speaker fall to the ground. When he unfolded it he saw their assumption was right. Pieces of magazine paper spelling out the next part of the poem. Jethro held the letter at arm's length so he could actually read it. DiNozzo leaned over his shoulder.

"Seven, eight, can they await?" He read aloud. Jethro stepped away and glared at him. DiNozzo just shrugged. "I have 20/10 eyesight. It's easier than watching you squint at it from two feet away."

Jethro ignored the comment and turned back to the note.

"Who's 'they' supposed to be?" Asked DiNozzo.

Jethro sighed. "Us."

*~*

Brent fumed. He was pissed. Pissed at his boss, and especially pissed at that punk of a cop. How did he know that Brent was looking him up? And he didn't know that Hawthorne's mother was raped based on something stupid like he didn't request time off for her funeral. That was strictly speculative. Oh, but Gibbs was falling all over him like a teenager in love or something.

Brent was also slightly afraid. Gibbs worked well with the cop. He was smart, he apparently wasn't afraid of Gibbs. He also didn't hesitate to pull his gun. Brent was still a Probie. His hands shook whenever he had to pull his gun. He was easily intimidated. And he wasn't that much younger than the cop, but DiNozzo's damn smile never even faltered when he rested his first gun on Gibbs' head, and had the second one trained on Stan.

He knew that he had to get something good on DiNozzo and Morgan in order to get back into Gibbs' good graces. He had to unseal that damn case from a year ago. Or better yet, prove to Gibbs that DiNozzo and Morgan were the killers. That would get Gibbs to like him again.

The elevator pinged, but Brent didn't look up. It wasn't until the footsteps stopped right in front of his desk that he did.

Standing before him was a Marine, probably in his thirties. He was a good looking dark skinned man with caramel eyes. He was broad. Whoever he was he took very good care of his body. The insignia on his jacket were two small connected silver rectangles. This man was a captain.

Brent stood up and straightened his tie. "Special Agent Brent Langer, how may I help you?" He crossed around his desk and held his hand out for the man.

"Captain Joseph Williams, I'm Corporal Kellan Hawthorne's commanding officer." He took Brent's hand in an almost breaking shake. Brent cringed.

"Yes, I'm glad you're here. Agent Gibbs wanted to speak to you."

"Is Agent Gibbs here? I'd really like to get this over with."

Brent watched him closely. He didn't seem all that upset that one of his men was just murdered. In Brent's two months, CO's usually showed a little bit more emotion. They may not bawl their eyes out, but they tended to actually care. Williams evidently didn't.

"He's out in the field right now. But um, I'm a member of Gibbs' team." He shrugged. "I can… do the interview." He sounded absolutely pathetic. Williams quirked his eyebrow at him.

"Anything to make this go faster. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Brent led him upstairs to the conference room. It was bigger, meant for a large number of people, but they also used it to speak to victims and their family members. It gave them privacy without the intimidating feeling of an interrogation room.

"Please, have a seat." Brent waited for Williams to sit before he did. "So, on the phone you said that Corporal Hawthorne wasn't a very good Marine."

Williams shook his head. "Hawthorne was an average Marine. He didn't stick out, he did what he was supposed to, but no more."

"Well, how did he manage to climb up the ranks to Corporal?"

The Captain tensed. "Time in the Marines, I guess. He was one of those kids who signed up right out of high school."

Brent nodded. "Did Hawthorne click with any of the other Marines? He have any buddies?"

Williams shook his head. "Not that I was aware of. He was quiet, usually stayed by himself."

"What about family? He ever talk about them?"

Again, the Captain shook his head. "Family was usually a forbidden conversation with Kellan. Never knew his father, and his mom was an alcoholic."

"Did you notice anybody take a particular keen interest in Corporal Hawthorne? Anybody, ask around for him?"

"Like I said, Agent Lange, Hawthorne didn't really stick out. No reason for anybody to ask around for him."

"Langer." Brent corrected.

"Sorry." Williams stood up. "Look, if that's all, I gotta head back to base."

Brent nodded. "Yeah, look, if you think of anything," he pulled out one of his cards. "Call me."

The Captain nodded before taking his leave. Brent sighed heavily. "Well, that was a complete waste of time." Yet again, he felt like his position on the team was in trouble.

*~*

The first place that Dennis and Stan headed after getting off the phone with Tony was Daxon's apartment. His roommate, John Cole barely got up to answer the door before he went back to shaking on the couch. He was a complete and utter mess.

Stan sat next to him, trying to offer comfort, while Dennis headed towards Daxon's bedroom. He left the door open a creak so he could still hear Stan question Cole.

The room itself was pretty small, every wall space was covered in posters for movies and bands that Dennis never heard of. The hamper had overflowed and clothes were scattered across the floor. Plus about three large piles of garbage. Once again, he was reminded of his brother. The last time Dennis had visited Harvey, his apartment looked very similar to this.

He shook that thought away. It wasn't either of his brothers in the morgue, he was only going to drive himself crazy if he kept thinking like that.

The next part of the poem had to be around here somewhere. He didn't know where else it could be. Unless it was back at the shoe store…

Damn it, he didn't even think about that. It would just be like their killers to go right back to the scene of the crime to leave the sixth part.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text message from Tony.

_Next line 7 8 can they aw8?_

It took Dennis a second to understand the message. He wasn't the text message type. Most of his conversations still occurred over the phone or face to face.

Who's 'they' supposed to mean, he thought to himself. His phone buzzed again. It was another message from Tony.

_The they means us._

Dennis chuckled to himself. Tony always did know what he was thinking. The curse of being around somebody for so long. He sighed heavily and put his phone away.

He moved through the room quietly so he could listen to the conversation Stan was having with Cole. "When was the last time you saw your roommate?" Stan asked.

"Like, a day before. He met this guy, and they were…" He trailed off, probably too disgusted to talk about Daxon hooking up with a guy.

Dennis straightened up and moved closer to the door in time to hear Stan's next question. "What can you tell me about the guy that he met?"

"I never met him. But um, Kyle, he said that he, uh, he was a, a really good looking guy. A little older. An actor."

"Did he tell you a name?"

"Stephen Price."

His phone rang again. He groaned as he pulled it out of his pocket for the third time in as many minutes. Only this time it wasn't a text message. It was a phone call.

"Morgan." He said when he picked up.

"Detective, it's Dr. Baxley. I found something on the body that I think you should have a look at."

Dennis frowned. "What's up, Doc?"

"Now is not the time to make jokes, Detective." Dennis shook his head around. He really didn't know what joke Baxley was talking about. "I found something on Mr. Daxon's body."

Dennis tensed. "What?"

Baxley was silent for a moment. "I can't exactly be sure, but, I think it's a part of a poem."

* * *

**I just want everybody here to know that it is a pain in the ass trying to make movie references without using anything from the last decade. Because, technically this story takes place in February 2001, two years before the show started, I remember one episode Tony had said he worked with Gibbs for two years. It's hard! Oh, another thing, the insignia on Captain Williams' jacket, I don't know if it is legit, I got it off of Wikipedia, and that was what they had for a Marine captain.**

**On an unrelated note, last night my mother told me that she had the hots for Gibbs. Apparently she likes his intense stoicism. I kind of... gagged, but you know it's my mother, and all that. Just thought I'd share that with you guys.**

**Bob**


	16. Chapter 15

**Wow, I really hope that this isn't totally anti-climactic, I mean, how bad would that be? I make you guys wait all this time to find out about the incident, just for it to be a big ole let down. I might even get booed off this site....**

**In other news, I am officially sick (Again!) and I just found out I have to work on Tuesday. from seven to midnight! And I have class the next morning, so I can't just watch the new episode when I get home! That makes me very sad. Make me happy, read, enjoy, possibly leave a message. You know I love it when you guys review, but I no longer have something to bribe you with! Oh, and one of you mentioned that I should write the entire poem (well, the part that's been posted) at the beginning of the chapter so you guys can remember it. And so I shall, It'll be under my incredibly long Author's note.**

**Another note (I'm sorry, I swear this is the last one until the end of the story!) This chapter is longer than the others, but really not by much. I'm sorry that the chapters are short, but seriously guys, I write these days before they ever go up for you guys to read, and I end the chapters when I feel that its time. I'm sorry that they're usually short, and they really aren't gonna get better. But be happy! This one is longer!**

* * *

One, two, three, what do I see?

Five bumbling cops, looking for me.

Four, five, six, how will they fix

Many despicable antics?

Seven, eight, can they await?

**Fifteen**

Dennis and Stan strode into the city morgue. After Dennis told Stan what Baxley had found, they had rushed over as fast as they could. When they saw the older man, he didn't look happy in the slightest.

"I should have found this sooner." He mumbled. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness. Something that Dennis was willing to give him, if he got to the point.

"What did you find, doctor?" He chose against the shorter version, seeing as last time seemed to upset the man a little.

"Dr. Mallard was correct, both Donovan Quail and Kyle Daxon froze to death."

The two cops stepped closer. For the first time, they took a good look at the bodies, freshly cleaned with a very noticeable Y shaped scar on their chests. They're faces were far more intact than Hawthorne and James Macy, John Doe #232. But their original injuries came from being stabbed, not bludgeoned.

"Daxon froze pretty quickly," said Stan, finding his voice much sooner than the other man. "According to his roommate he was only missing for a day."

"Depending on how cold it is, and how much blood he lost before he died, it wouldn't have taken Kyle very long to die." He lifted up Daxon's left hand. "And judging by his fingernails, he fought."

"You think he fought his killer?" Again, Stan asked.

Baxley shook his head. "I'd guess that Kyle Daxon fought for freedom." He paused as he turned to the other men again. "He tried to claw his way out of his freezing prison."

Dennis' stomach clenched. _Twenty-three and twenty-one_.

Day in and day out, he saw people after they were murdered. But never has a case felt so close to home. There was no difference between Kyle and Donovan, and Harvey and Jack, Dennis' half brothers.

In a flash, he saw them on those tables. His brothers, so young, so full of life, killed before their time. He saw their bodies, stabbed and butchered before suffering an even worse fate by freezing to death.

"What about that part of the poem?" He suddenly blurted out. When he looked up, both Baxley and Stan were looking at him like he was insane. He figured he may have interrupted one of them while they were speaking. He just hoped they weren't talking the poem.

"Right." Baxley put on a fresh pair of gloves and flipped Daxon's body over onto his stomach. "When I was doing my preliminary examination, I noticed something sticky on Kyle's back. I sent it via courier to Washington, but I didn't wait for the results to do the autopsy. A Ms. Abigail Scuito just got back to me on the substance." He moved away from the body.

Dennis and Stan waited impatiently for him to continue. "What'd you find?" Stan finally asked.

Baxley tossed them both a pair of orange goggles. "What I found was a fluorescent gel on his back."

They put the goggles on. "Our message was written in fluorescent gel?"

Baxley didn't say anything. Instead, he flipped the lights off.

Sure enough, on his back was the next line of the poem. And it didn't sit well for Dennis.

This one was different than the last few they've gotten. Underneath the words was a smiley face. The killers were getting cocky. And taking their taunting to another level.

_Or will they rush to meet their fate?_

*~*

Jethro and DiNozzo waited for the Metropolitan Police Department to show up before they left. They got what they needed, they decided to let somebody else handle the actual search. Well, that and neither one of them had jurisdiction here. The apartment was in the District of Columbia and nobody in the Navy or Marine Corps actually lived here.

"You tell Morgan and Stan about the next line?" Jethro asked.

DiNozzo nodded. "Sent Denny a text message about," he checked his watch. "Twenty minutes ago. Which was right after we called Metro." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Just how much longer are they gonna be?"

"They're not gonna make this easy for us. As far as they're concerned, we stepped on their toes."

DiNozzo sighed. "You know, if I gave another department a hard time like this, they'd have my badge in a second."

"You're young."

"I know, and it's really annoying. I do my job better than anyone else in my precinct. My Captain loves me. But people look down on me because of my age!"

"Do you even know how to close your mouth, DiNozzo?"

The younger man glared. "Do you know how to talk? Except to yell at me, you barely ever open your mouth."

"Maybe, I don't need to let everyone around me know what I'm thinking at every moment of the day." Once again, Jethro felt himself get agitated by the cop, especially when he started to smile.

"Gibbs, you're good, but you don't have a damn clue what I'm thinking about."

"You're thinking about the injustice of the police force."

DiNozzo was finally silent. Jethro was happy about that, but when he looked at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. He didn't look embarrassed, or angry. He was concerned.

Jethro sighed heavily. He may have been wrong with his first guess, but he did know what DiNozzo was thinking about. He was worried about his partner and his family. Jethro knew that the two of them were closer than just partners. This case was probably driving them crazy.

A man and a woman in wrinkled suits stepped through the broken doorway. Both of them were scowling. "What the hell happened here?" The man asked.

DiNozzo pushed off the wall and smiled at him. It was completely fake, but it did its job of covering up the hidden concern. "I leaned against it and it just fell in. I'm thinking termites."

The older fellow sneered at DiNozzo but otherwise didn't react. He was probably used to cocky cops by now.

Jethro studied the two of them. The man was older, probably mid to late thirties, but still relatively attractive. The woman was much younger, probably a white shield—newly made detective. She was pretty with light brown hair and a fake tan.

The suit turned to Jethro, scowling. "Detective Jarrod, Metro police. This is my partner, Detective Allen." He didn't bother holding his hand out for Jethro to shake.

Jethro smirked. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. That's Detective DiNozzo, Baltimore Homicide."

Jarrod turned to the younger man. "You're a long way from Baltimore, aren't you, Detective DiNuzzo?"

"It's DiNozzo. You just heard it five seconds ago, you should have been able to remember it." He peered over his shoulder at Jethro. "You know, maybe we should call and request another cop. This one worries me."

"Yeah, I'm actually going to have to agree with you on that one." Jethro felt something well up inside of him. Pissing off local LEO's was one of his favorite games. It seemed that DiNozzo actually shared his passion.

"DiNozzo?" Detective Allen asked. "As in Anthony DiNozzo?"

The man in question's face fell. Jarrod's eyes turned to slits as he chuckled maliciously. "Well I'll be damned. I've actually heard of you."

Jethro frowned. DiNozzo, however, started smiling that fake smile again. "Well it's nice to know my reputation precedes me."

Jarrod chuckled again. "Yeah it does. Baltimore must be desperate, if they made a loose cannon like you a detective."

The corners of his mouth twitched but DiNozzo never let the smirk fall. Detective Allen stepped forward with a taunting gleam in her eye. "The way I hear it, you nearly impaled another cop."

DiNozzo turned to her. His eyes roamed over her body as he spoke. This time his grin turned flirtatious. "I guess that depends on your definition of _impaled_."

Before either of them could say anything else, the Baltimore cop was out the door. Jethro followed him with his gaze. To an outside observer, he was completely void of emotion. Inside he was seething. He couldn't explain it, but he couldn't stand these two strangers, and he hated that they thought they could talk to DiNozzo like that.

Jarrod turned back to him, smiling proudly. "So, you wanna tell me why we were called here?"

Jethro nodded. "Tennant died. The apartment's your jurisdiction." He moved around the two of them and strode into the hallway.

"You wanna tell me something helpful?" Jarrod called after him.

Despite the fact that his back was to the two of them, so they'd have no way of seeing it, he scoffed. "I already know how he died, I just don't know if it happened here." He threw the door to the stairwell open and headed down.

When he made it back outside he found DiNozzo. His were hands gripping the car for support. He looked a total mess.

Jethro snuck up on him and whacked him in the back of the head. DiNozzo flinched and spun around to face him. Upon closer inspection, Jethro realized that he was more than just a mess. He looked like he was barely holding it together.

Jethro felt his anger rising. Normally, he couldn't give a damn about a person's private life, except when it interfered with an investigation. And it looked like DiNozzo's personal life was interfering.

"What did she mean you nearly impaled a cop?" He seethed.

DiNozzo sighed heavily. "It's called gossip Gibbs. The further it branches out, the more elaborate it gets." He opened the passenger side door.

Jethro slammed it shut again. "How did you make detective a year ago?" DiNozzo paled. "The case was sealed and I want to know right now what you did!"

DiNozzo was silent for a moment as he rolled his words around on his tongue. "That's none of your business."

"Was it true? Did you nearly impale a cop?"

The younger man turned away. Jethro smacked him again. "Was it true?"

"Partly." DiNozzo turned back to look at him. "A few weeks after Denny and I moved to Baltimore, we picked up a guy for a Drunk and Disorderly. Turned out he was a suspect in a rape homicide. My gut told me he was innocent, and I let the detective in charge of the case know that."

Kid followed his gut. Jethro could appreciate that. "Were you right?"

DiNozzo nodded. "I was. But by the time he listened to me it was too late. The sap lost everything. His job, his wife, his kid. He tried to explain to people that he was completely innocent, but it didn't matter, they all stopped listening as soon as he said the words 'charged' and 'rape homicide.'" He leaned against the car door. His eyes started to glaze over.

"They promoted you for that?"

DiNozzo shook his head. "A few months later, he's all messed up on Meth. He went over to his ex-wife's place to get her back." He chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Instead he beat her to death."

He stopped for a second. He looked like he was about to fall over, so Jethro peeled him off the door, opened it and gently placed the young man inside. He circled around the car and climbed in behind the wheel. When he looked back at DiNozzo, his seatbelt was securely fastened and he stared straight ahead, as if lost in a memory.

"Neighbors heard screams, so they called the cops. When they arrived, Neil—that was his name, Neil—he pulled a gun and started shooting into the street. He said he wouldn't talk to anyone. Except for me."

"Because you believed him?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "At the time," he paused. "I thought it was cool, you know? I mean it was my first hostage situation, and… I was the one who got to play Negotiator." He smiled. "Like Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey in _The Negotiator_?" He finally looked at Jethro.

He chuckled. "It was a good movie."

DiNozzo's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You actually saw it?"

"I've seen a couple of films that piqued my interest. That one piqued my interest."

The younger man smiled. It was genuine, but it wavered a little. "Yeah it was pretty cool."

"So what happened?"

DiNozzo turned back to the window. "Drive." Jethro started the car and pulled away from Macy's apartment. The cop was silent for a few more moments, just watching the scenery roll by. Jethro thought he might have to smack him again, even though—for once—he didn't want to. "I spent four hours trying to talk him out of the house. His daughter was still inside," he shook his head. "She must have been so scared."

Jethro clenched the wheel a little tighter. He didn't know how the story was going to end, but so far he didn't like it. All he kept thinking was if that son of a bitch hurt his own daughter, he'd tear him apart limb from limb himself.

Apparently oblivious to his murderous thoughts, DiNozzo kept going. "I finally talked him down. He came out with the gun raised over his head in surrender. But—" He stopped again.

"But it wasn't as cool as you thought it would be?"

He took another shaky breath. "A rookie… made a dumb mistake and tried to slap some bracelets on Neil's wrists." He shook his head. "Neil freaked out, tossed the rookie into the street. Then Neil turned to his partner." He rubbed his eyes. "I saw him put the gun to her head and I just reacted. I pulled my gun and I…" He trailed off, but Jethro didn't need him to say it.

"You shot him."

DiNozzo slapped the window on the door. Jethro turned and studied him. But the younger man refused to look at him. "Tony," he said softly. "You did what you had to do."

DiNozzo turned to him, screaming. "I didn't hesitate! I didn't… think! I just… put a damn round through the guy's freakin' right eye!"

"You couldn't have been the only one who pulled their weapon."

"But I was the only one that took a shot! It was a bad angle, if I was even just a centimeter off, I could've hit her." He stopped as a single tear leaked out of his eye. "I _did_ hit her."

Silence filled the car. DiNozzo was right. It was deafening. "It was Officer Morgan, wasn't it?" DiNozzo was quiet again, so Jethro elaborated. "When I met her, I noticed there was a small bit missing out of her right ear. You're bullet grazed her when you shot Neil, didn't it?" Jethro finally understood why DiNozzo was made a detective, and why the case was sealed. He made detective because he earned it. Hostage situations are a terrifying and often traumatizing experience, especially if a child was involved. But DiNozzo handled it calmly enough to convince Neil to surrender, on his first try too.

His captain no doubt had the case sealed because DiNozzo technically took a shot at a cop. The guys in charge usually looked down at that sort of thing.

DiNozzo turned away again. "I shouldn't have taken that shot."

"You saved her life."

"You ever kill anyone, Gibbs?"

Jethro nodded, even though DiNozzo wasn't looking. "I was a sniper in the Marine Corps during Panama and Desert Storm. I've killed many people." He breathed deeply before adding. "It's not supposed to be easy."

DiNozzo shook his head. "Killing Neil," he shut his eyes and shook his head. "Made me wet myself." Jethro tried to hide his chuckle. When DiNozzo opened his eyes again, any trace of humor was gone from his lips. "But that I would kill a man so quickly, without even considering the consequences." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "What makes me any better than the guys we chase? What makes me better than Neil, or these stupid, bad poet killers? How am I any better than them?"

"You're guilt. It eats you alive, and some nights you can't sleep." Jethro wasn't sure why he was sharing so much with the younger man. But for once, he decided to trust his words. His gut told him this kid needed it, and Jethro always trusted his gut.

"You really suck at pep talks, Gibbs."

"That guilt is what makes you a better man. Our serial killers, Neil, they didn't have that guilt. They took a life and it didn't consume them. Five people died, Tony. They died pointless deaths with no purpose. But you shot Neil to save the life of someone you cared about. You reacted before anyone else did, and you should be proud. If it wasn't for you, she'd be dead."

Throughout his entire speech, DiNozzo just stared at him, a trace of a grin on his lips. The tears dried up. "I take it back. Your openings are iffy, but your endings are a slam dunk."

Jethro chuckled. DiNozzo cleared his throat. "I'd uh, appreciate it, if you didn't tell anybody about how I wet my pants." Jethro turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "My pants were black. Nobody noticed a wet stain. Accept, maybe Ley, 'cause she hugged me, but, um…"

The agent sighed. "First time I killed somebody, I vomited all over my CO."

DiNozzo tilted his head to the side. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "You tell anybody that and I will shoot you, got it?" He sealed the threat with a glare.

The young man rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, Gibbs. Your secret's—" He never got to finish.

Their car was side swiped right off the road.

*~*

"That's it, we're out of here." Stan said, taking off out the door. He never bothered to take off his goggles.

Dennis followed right behind him. "Where are we going?"

"Washington."

"Tony said to stay here." He pulled his goggles off and tossed them over his shoulder.

Stan chuckled. "Last I checked, I didn't work for Tony." Dennis almost stopped. Those words seemed very similar to what he said last night.

"Leaving town now is exactly what they want. That's what that line meant! We should stay here instead of rushing in half-cocked!"

Stan turned to Dennis. For the first time since they met, he was seething. "You don't know that that line was talking about us. I know my boss. He always rushes into things. Nine times out of ten it works for him. But I'm not going to risk this time being that one!"

Dennis shook his head. "Maybe that's what they want you to think! They want you to think they're going after Gibbs, and as soon as they have a shot, badda bing badda boom, our loved ones are identifying us in the morgue."

Stan sighed heavily. He appeared to be seceding to Dennis. That was a good thing, if he didn't calm down, he wouldn't be able to think straight, and right now, they needed their heads on right.

His phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it. The caller I.D. told him it was Tony. He flashed it to Stan. "See? Tony's calling. They're ok." He flipped the phone open. "Yeah."

At first he didn't hear anything. Just heavy breathing. His eyebrows scrunched together. "Tony this isn't funny, man."

"Nine, ten, come get the bad men." Dennis' heart stopped. That wasn't Tony's voice.

He heard the phone drop and the distinct sound of tires screeching. He turned to Stan, his face was full of worry. "What's up?" He asked.

"Trace my call."

"Why?"

"Because you were right." They're killers had Tony and Gibbs.

* * *

**Is that enough Tony whumpage for you guys? Or do you want more? I have more, I just wanna know if this was good. I'm still a little afraid of how you guys are gonna see the incident. I mean, I kinda had tears in my eyes when I was writing that, but it's in my head, I can feel Tony's emotions. Not that I've ever killed anyone, but, you get my point.**

**How would you guys react if I saif this story was going on permanent hiatus? I mean school starts in like two days, I probably won't be able to post every single day anymore. I don't even know when I'll get the chance to write or anything. We'll see...**

**Bob**


	17. Chapter 16

**To let everyone know, I'm not planning on putting this story on haitus, permanent or otherwise. I was just being a bitch to see how you guys would react. Sorry. But you should probably know that I most likely won't update everyday anymore. But the story will be finished, that I promise you. And one more note, sorry this chapter is also really short, and I apologize for that as well, but again, I just felt that this was the right place to stop. Hope you like.**

* * *

One, two, three, what do I see?

Five bumbling cops, looking for me.

Four, five, six, how will they fix

Many despicible antics?

Seven, eight, can they await?

Or will they rush to meet their fate?

Nine, ten, come get the bad men,

**Sixteen**

Stan drove like a mad man, Dennis could barely hold on. But he didn't care. They were driving back to Washington, going about ninety miles an hour in Dennis' car, the sirens blaring in their ears. But he just didn't care. Something happened to Tony, and that's all he cared about.

Stan's cell phone rang. Instead of answering it himself, he tossed it over to Dennis. He flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Agent Burley's phone."

"Stan?" It was a deep voice, one that he really didn't remember.

"Dennis Morgan, who's this?"

"Agent Brent Langer, where's Stan?" It took him a minute to remember Langer.

"He's driving. He's going a little crazy with it, so he can't really talk right now. Did you trace my cell?"

"Yeah, they're parked at the intersection at Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, and First."

Dennis relayed the intersection to Stan before turning back to the phone in his hand. "Thanks Brent." He didn't wait for the man to reply before he hung up. "How much longer till we get there?"

At that moment, Stan pulled off the highway into D.C. "About twenty minutes."

Dennis held onto the rail and prayed he didn't barf all over his car. "How long if we actually went the speed limit?"

Stan swirved around a few cars to make a left turn. "A lot longer."

Dennis clenched his eyes shut and breathed deeply. "They're gonna be ok, Stan."

"Are you saying that to calm me down, or calm yourself?"

"Little bit of both."

"Did you recognize the voice at all?"

Dennis shook his head. "No, all I could tell was that it was male. It was quiet and hoarse, like he was trying to mask it."

"But it wasn't computer generated or actually masked in any kind of way?" Stan made another turn, Dennis flew into the door.

"No," He groaned, rubbing his arm. "It sounded like he was talking from his throat."

Stan slammed on the breaks, sending Dennis into the dashboard. He rubbed his nose where it hit, but stopped at what he saw.

"That's our Sedan."

Dennis figured that, he also kind of feared it. The car was smashed in in the front as well as the passenger's side. The windshield looked like somebody took a baseball bat or a golf club to it.

He jumped out of the car and ran closer. There, by the passenger's side was Tony's cell phone. It was long dead. There was also blood. A lot of blood. Like the amount of blood that leaked out of fatal wounds.

"Dennis!" Stan called. It took almost a full minute for Dennis to pull his eyes away from the blood. He knew that it was Tony's blood. There was no other possibility.

He circled around the car to join Stan. He was staring at the cracked windshield.

He knew his heart should have stopped. He knew he should have felt panicked, seeing a message written in blood over the glass. But he couldn't. After everything that happened in the last two days, he just felt numb.

"I think the poem's over." Said Stan. Dennis nodded in agreement.

*~*

His head pounded like a mother. Really, it was quite possibly the most pain he ever felt in his life, and he played football, so that had to say something.

"You awake?" Somebody asked, but he wasn't sure who. His eyes refused to open. Just what the hell happened? What day was it? What was he doing here?" "Hey! DiNozzo!"

He stopped. That voice sounded so familiar. Gruff, and angry. In an instant, everything from the last two days came back to him. The case, the poem, getting hit by a car and dragged into a van by two assailants. His head felt like it was barely staying attached, so he didn't put up much of a fight. He decided that he would regret that until the day that he died.

"DiNozzo open your damn eyes!"

Tony's head shook before he finally complied. The light was dim, but that was the only favor. Before him was Gibbs, looking terrible. His lip was bloody and his eye was starting to swell. He was tied to a chair. When Tony tried to move his hands, he realized that he, too, was bound.

He tried to smile. "You worried about me, Gibbs?"

"Wanted to make sure you weren't gonna start stinking on me."

"I'm touched Gibbs, really. I have tears in my eyes."

His gaze searched around the room. They were in a butcher shop. Complete with cuts of animals hanging around. "Well this is cozy. I suppose there are worse places to die." He turned back to Gibbs.

Inside, Tony was terrified. He was going to die today, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. He was bound, he could feel that his gun was missing, as well as his knife. He had no idea what the killers were planning on doing to him. When he turned to Gibbs, he hoped to see some kind of reassurance, that they would get out of this alive somehow. But instead, all he got was a blank stare.

"Probably isn't a good time to say this, but, um, I'm a little claustrophobic." His voice shook. "I mean, you think they'll keep us in a big freezer with all the meats, or do you think they'll keep us in a little thing?"

Gibbs shrugged.

Tony chuckled. Although it turned into more of a hysterical scream than anything else. "Mary is gonna kill me." That caused him to laugh again. "Well, she might not be able to kill me, but she just might beat up my corpse."

Gibbs quirked an eyebrow. "Mary?"

"Mary Mancona, Denny's mother."

"_Denny's_ last name is Morgan."

Tony nodded. "His parents split when he was five. Mary took her maiden name back." Gibbs' eyes lowered to slits, although it wasn't an angry look for once, merely contemplation.

"Why'd they split?"

"Charlie got his mistress pregnant."

The older man's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "So, the girl is Morgan's half sister?"

Tony shook his head. "No, it's complicated, but Mary was pregnant with Ley when Charlie left her. He ended up marrying his mistress and popping out four kids with her." Tony stopped, his forehead crinkled in confusion. "Why are you asking me about Denny?"

"You stopped panicking when you were talking about him."

Tony almost said something to that, but stopped short. Gibbs was right, focusing on his 'family' had calmed him down a lot. "Why are you so calm? You been in a situation like this before?"

Gibbs smirked. "I was in Desert Storm and Panama, DiNozzo." He shook his head. "Very few things can compare to being in combat." Tony cocked his head to the side in agreement.

They were silent for a while. Tony assessed the room, trying to find any sort of way out. But he had been awake for close to a half an hour by now, and nobody had bothered to check on them. He was bound with—he flicked his wrists around—flex cuffs. Those things were a bitch to break free. He wondered why the killers just didn't use his and Gibbs' handcuffs. It would add a hint of irony to the situation. And really, who didn't love a little irony?

His thoughts flashed to the four bodies at NCIS and the city morgue. Two were stabbed to death, two were beaten to death. Neither option sounded enjoyable. He wondered who would get beaten and who would get stabbed today?

"Two killers, two methods of killing." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It was quite possibly the only thing to stave off the panic attack rising inside of him.

"Both are incredibly bloody." Gibbs continued.

Tony's eyes shot open as a thought struck him. "They're clothes weren't charred."

"Should they be?"

"If they were cooked, yes. Their clothes were still covered in blood, but they were in too good condition. There's no way they could look like that after being cooked."

"Unless they undressed them before they cooked them."

"And then redressed them afterwards." Tone was silent for a second. "Who the hell would go through that much trouble?"

"Why would they stage the crime scene so it looked random?"

The quiet echoed around the room. Both of them were lost in thought. Tony didn't know how long he had left to live, but quite frankly, at this point, he didn't care. He wasn't going to die without answers.

"They left the dog tags for a reason." Gibbs suddenly blurted out.

Tony jerked his gaze up to meet the older man's. He waited as long as his patience would allow him. Apparently, his patience would only allow him thirty seconds. "Care to elaborate, Gibbs?"

"Hawthorne wasn't a decoy, they left his dog tags for a reason. They wanted NCIS in on the case." He paused. "They wanted _me_ in on the case."

Tony scoffed. "You think this whole thing was some sort of ploy to kill you? That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Morgan was right, every victim had no family. I don't have a family."

Tony's jaw dropped as it finally dawned on him. "I don't either. The closest thing I have to a family is my partner's family. This wasn't just a trap for you, Gibbs. They left the dog tags to get NCIS on the scene, but they staged it in Baltimore to get Homicide involved."

Gibbs shook his head. "They planned this right from the start. They wanted us to do a joint investigation."

"So they could kill us."

They heard the loud metal _clank_ of the door being thrust open before they were bathed in light. Tony had no idea if it was sunlight or artificial. He had no idea what time of the day it was, and he only had a mild guesstimation of how much time had passed since he woke up.

The next thing he heard was the click of high heels on concrete. He jerked his head back in surprise. One of their serial killers was a woman. That was something he wasn't expecting.

When he finally saw who his captors were, his blood ran cold.

The man in front of him smiled. He was older, probably mid to late thirties, but he was still relatively attractive. He had basically kept in shape, but there was a little softness around his middle. The woman, on the other hand couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with light brown hair and her skin was kissed with the glow of a fake tan. Her eyes were almond shaped, and blue. She was stunning. Under any other circumstance, Tony probably would have slept with her.

"Hello Detective DiNozzo," the man said. He turned to his other prisoner. "Special Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded, his expression of blankness never wavered. "Detective Jarrod."

* * *

**Ok, raise your hands if you were expecting that! Yeah, don't worry, it gets worse. Is that really a good thing? Wow, I need help...**


	18. Chapter 17

**I feel kind of bad that last chapter had Tony and Gibbs all tied up and defenseless, cause this chapter has nothing do to with either of them! I'll try to get chapter eighteen up tomorrow, but I'm running out of prewritten chapters. I'm working on it, but it's gonna be tough for the next couple of days, and I'm sorry. **

* * *

**Seventeen**

The squad room was incredibly tense and quiet as they all settled into their own thoughts. None of them knew what was happening to Tony and Gibbs, but they all imagined the worst.

"I think it was Hawthorne's CO." said Langer, bringing a photo of an attractive black man up on the monitor. "I reread Hawthorne's records a thousand times, it doesn't match what Williams told me."

"What do you mean?" Dennis asked.

With a few clicks of his remote, Langer brought up Hawthorne's service record. "Personality wise, Hawthorne didn't stand out, but he worked his ass harder than any of the others in his unit. He was physically strong, excelled at hand to hand combat. He was up for promotion to Sergeant when he went UA."

"He didn't go UA, he was killed." Dennis said through gritted teeth. Saying that this boy had an unauthorized absence was basically saying that he deserted. Hawthorne deserved more than that.

"Why would Captain Williams lie to you like that?" Stan asked.

Langer shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want me to know that the two of them had problems."

"Is that in his service records?" Asked Dennis.

Langer shook his head. "No, that's the weird one, Captain Williams was the one who suggested Hawthorne for the promotion."

Dennis was confused by that. "You think they had a falling out?"

"Had to be a big one," Stan interjected. "Theory?" he asked with a hint of attitude in his voice.

Langer took a deep breath. "Williams didn't like Hawthorne, there was some serious bad blood between them. In a fit of rage, Williams kills Hawthorne, freaks out and tries to hide him. Little does he know he doesn't actually beat Hawthorne to death, his death was actually a lot more painful. Two months go by, nobody suspects anything, he starts to get a blood lust. He got away with murder once, he wants to know if he can do it again. So he finds Quail, an orphan who nobody would miss, but he tries something different. He stabs him instead of beats him. Still, nobody comes looking for him."

Dennis stepped forward. "He was looking for somebody to catch him. That's why he left Hawthorne's dog tags. The whole scene was staged."

"To get Gibbs?" Asked Stan.

"And Tony." Dennis turned towards the federal agents. "If all he wanted was Gibbs, he would have dumped the bodies at a Marine base, or a place that would guarantee NCIS involvement. Instead he dumped it at a local shoe store in our city."

Langer shrugged. "You and DiNozzo have a ninety-four percent close rate." The other two stared at him. His eyes darted around, he was probably embarrassed for being caught checking up on them.

Dennis nodded. "And Gibbs has a perfect record." Burley and Langer stared at _him _this time. "You guys aren't the only one doing background checks." Half the reason Dennis gave Stan Tony's password was so he could take a look at Gibbs' team without Stan breathing down his neck.

Stan shook his head. "I don't buy it. Williams is a _Captain_ in the Marine Corps. I don't believe that he'd suddenly turn into a serial killer after killing a man in a fit of rage."

"Either way, it's something we should look into." Dennis was surprised that his voice came out so levelly. Quite frankly, he just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs and go on a killing spree himself. In the year that he and Tony had been detectives, something like this never happened. Even the incident was tame compared to this. At the time, everyone's heart was racing. Dennis almost killed his partner when he saw that his sister was bleeding. But everything turned out ok. Lea was safe, Neil was dead, and Dennis and Tony got a promotion. This was different.

Stan rolled his eyes. "It's a waste of time!"

Langer shot daggers at him throgh his eyes. "It won't be a waste of time if I'm right! Or what, I can't be right because I'm a Probie?"

"No, you can't be right because you're wrong. You're theory lacks even a decent motive."

"And what's gonna happen when I turn out to be right?"

"You're not right, and we're wasting time chasing down a lead that has no basis in reality."

Finally fed up, Dennis shouted, "Hey!" Stan and Langer quieted down. "Now is not the time to start losing your cool. Now, unless Abby can work her mojo and give us a perp based on the forensics in the car, we will run down every lead we can get!"

"That's a waste of man power, those bastards have my boss!"

"And they have my partner!" Dennis took a deep breath. "But right now, we still don't know who took them, if Langer thinks it's Captain Williams, then we look into Captain Williams. I'm not gonna over look somebody trying to find my partner because you're the military's loyal St. Bernard!"

Stan and Dennis glared at each other, willing the other to break. Any second now, they would resort to blows. Dennis was completely confident that Stan would kick his ass.

Stan took a deep breath through his nose and turned to Langer. "Bring Captain Williams in for questioning."

Langer stared at him in confusion. "Shouldn't we wait a little while, see what we can use against him?"

Stan rolled his head around and smacked the younger agent in the back of the head. Really hard too. "We don't have time for that, Langer! Boss is missing, now move!"

Without another word, Langer was grabbing his badge and gun and all but running towards the elevator. Stan turned back to Dennis. "We should pick up Harker." He said.

Dennis nodded. The bastard wasn't completely sane, nor was he totally honest with the two of them.

They didn't say anything as they headed to the elevator. Nor when they stepped inside. In fact they made it down two floors before Stan hit the emergency stop switch.

He leaned his head against the front and took a deep breath. "We're gonna find them." He said.

Dennis chuckled and shook his head. "Are you trying to convince me or you?"

Stan straightened up and looked at his temporary partner. "I know Gibbs," he continued as if Dennis never said anything. "Ok, he's like Chuck Norris. He never stays down. He was a Marine, served during two wars. He will be ok, and he'll take care of Tony."

Dennis supressed the shake that quaked up his spine. "Corporal Kellan Hawthorne's been a Marine for six years. Now he's downstairs in a morgue drawer." He reached out and flicked the emergency stop again. The lights flickered back on and the lift started moving downwards once more. "The last thing we should do is underestimate these guys."

The doors slid open and the two of them headed through the lobby.

Dennis' phone rang. "Morgan." He answered.

"Detective Morgan!" The woman was absolutely hysterical, but Dennis couldn't for the life of him recognize the voice.

"Who is this?"

"This is Mina Murray. I'm Mr. Harker's assistant. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

"Miss Murray! Calm down, now tell me what's wrong?"

"He's dead! Mr. Harker, I'm, I'm looking at his body right now!" Her breathing was erratic, and she sounded on the verge of tears.

Dennis stopped walking. "Harker's dead?"

"Yes, he's dead, what the hell do you think I've been saying?" She whined. "I can't believe that this happened."

"Miss Murray, please, calm down. I need you to stay as far away from the body as possible. Now, why did you call me?"

Miss Murray was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know what else to do. I saw your card and I just." She stopped. The tears had obviously started to flow.

Dennis and Stan headed towards their car, this time with a different mission. "When was the last time you saw Mr. Harker?"

"After you spoke to him. He sent everyone home, but he locked himself in his office. I, I went to talk to him, and I found him on the floor."

Dennis stopped walking again. "Was there a note?"

"Yeah. It said that he, he just c-couldn't live anymore."

Dennis threw his head back. He signaled for Stan to stop walking. "Miss Murray, listen, I need you to call Baltimore police. Ok, dial nine-one-one. Tell them what you just told me."

"What? Why? Where are you?"

"I'm not in Baltimore right now, look, Miss Murray, everything is gonna be ok."

"Ok, goodbye, Detective Morgan."

Dennis hung up. Stan looked at him, twirling his keys. "What is it?"

"Harker's dead."

"Yeah, I heard that part. So why aren't we going down there? He might be another victim."

"He committed suicide." Dennis shook his head. "There's no way he could've kidnapped Gibbs and Tony. He was obsessed with Donovan and he killed himself because he couldn't live without him." He stared down at his cell phone. That stupid piece of technology has told him nothing but bad news since they got this case. Within a few hours, his partner, best friend, hell the love of his freakin' life, might die, and he just got a call that his best lead to find him was a total pussy who offed himself. And that was just the last straw.

Screaming, he chucked his cell phone into the nearest parked car. The side window shattered, his phone was destroyed. But he didn't stop screaming. Every piece of anger left inside of him, all the fear he felt, he released into the air.

He dropped to his knees, his head thrown back, wailing up towards the heavens. It wasn't until his screams turned into sobs that he stopped. He fell forward, panting, while simultaneously trying to choke back the tears.

Stan dropped to his knees in front of him. He grabbed Dennis by the shoulders and pulled him upright. He locked their gazes. Stan's was one of solid belief and reassurance. "We are gonna find them. And I promise you they're gonna be ok. We'll find them."

Dennis stared into his eyes. It was a surprise that only two minutes ago, Stan was just as much of a mess as he was. But despite all the fear that he no doubt felt, he didn't give up hope. He had complete confidence in his boss. Stan truly believed that his boss could survive this. And he'd ensure that Tony did too.

Dennis nodded. "I believe you." Now that he was calmed, he realized just how ridiculous he looked. Pulling his brown eyes away from Stan's blue ones, he cleared his throat. "This, um, this can stay between us, right? You won't tell Tony, or Langer, or anybody, right?"

Stan grinned. "I won't say a word."

* * *

**I'm sorry it's short, I tried to make it longer (it was actually a lot shorter than this) but I wanted this chapter to be solely about Dennis and Stan and Brent, and I couldn't think of a way of extending it. But, next chapter is all about Gibbs and Tony, and more Tony 'whumpage.' It's gonna get bad before it gets better. Plain and simple. Well, I hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think!**

**Bob**


	19. Chapter 18

**Sorry, I know I said I was going to get this chapter up yesterday, but it was my mother's birthday, and the day was hectic and busy, but now it is up! And I just have to say, I loved last Tuesday's NCIS! But I'm a total Tibbs fan, as I'm sure you've guessed by now, lol, and I just loved all of their moments. Ok, now that I've gotten that off my chest without spoiling for anybody who hasn't seen it--mostly--I'll get back to the story.**

* * *

**Eighteen**

Jethro looked up at the two 'Metro Detectives' he just met a few hours ago. He was pissed. He knew he didn't like them. Every ounce of his being wanted to bash their skulls in, and he was afraid his face gave him away.

Across from him, DiNozzo chuckled. Jethro glared at him. He thought this was _funny_?

"I can't believe I missed that!" The young man said animatedly. "Jarrod, as in Henry Jarrod?" He turned to Detective Allen. "And I assume you're going to tell me your first name is Sue?"

Jarrod chuckled. "Not bad, Detective."

Allen swiped his hair with her hand. "I knew we made the right choice with you." She said it… almost affectionately.

DiNozzo turned to Jethro and caught his confused look. "Henry Jarrod and Sue Allen, _House of Wax_, the 1953 movie starring Vincent Price as Professor Henry Jarrod." He smiled smugly at the two fakes.

Jarrod chuckled. "You know your monster movies, Detective."

Jethro smiled. "So how did you get to the others? Say you were cops who needed to question them?" His voice held a hint of boredom and speculation.

It was Allen's—or whatever her real name was—turn to chuckle. "Agent Gibbs, you don't give us nearly enough credit. We chose different names for each," She slid her hand down DiNozzo's torso, "mark."

Jethro tensed. "All from bad horror movies?"

Jarrod shrugged. "What can I say? We were just… waiting for somebody to catch on. It was absolutely pitiful, these young kids. They can't appreciate classics."

Allen kicked her leg up and straddled DiNozzo's lap. "I so thought that Donovan would get Brenda Bates." She pouted.

Jethro could see that DiNozzo was getting more and more uncomfortable, but he held on to his humor. He needed it. "_Urban Legend_, right?"

Allen smiled. "Very good Detective! I swear, I am falling more and more in love with you."

Jarrod rolled his eyes. "Kitty!" He warned when it looked like she was about to kiss the cop.

DiNozzo pulled his face back. "So, your name is Kitty, huh?"

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now if you know, does it?" She clawed down the front of his shirt. "Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly sexy?"

"Quite often, actually."

Jethro tried to break free. Stupid flex cuffs. He couldn't break them. It was so strange, they were nothing but thin strips of plastic, but it took a lot of brute strength to break them. And Jethro just didn't have enough of that.

He hated it. He hated that the detective was being molested right in front of him and he couldn't help him. DiNozzo—_Tony _—was trying to appear nonchalant, like this wasn't bothering him, but Jethro saw the look in his eyes. This was really freaking him out.

"I have a question for you." Jethro suddenly blurted out, hoping to get Kitty's attention off the man she was grinding against. "How did you get your note into Corporal Hawthorne's vein?"

Kitty grinned like the Cheshire Cat at him. "Bone marrow needle. I wrote the line up, rolled it nice and tight, and injected it."

Jethro nodded. "And a bone marrow needle is bigger than a normal one." He watched as Jarrod leaned against the wall and watched Kitty wriggle her butt around Tony's legs. The bastard had the nerve to be amused. "So what's your name?" Jarrod turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. Jethro shrugged. "If you're going to kill us, why can't I learn your name first?"

Jarrod smiled. "Lance."

Once again, Jethro nodded. "And is Kitty your wife or something?"

_Lance_ chuckled. He moved around so he stood right behind Tony. "If Kitty was my lover in any way, I guarantee you Detective DiNozzo would already be dead, Agent Gibbs."

Tony chuckled. "That's funny, 'cause if she was in any way _my _lover," he dropped his head so he could look up at Lance. "She wouldn't be on another guy's lap, if you catch my drift." He winked.

Lance apparently didn't find that very funny. He wound back and slapped Tony across the face. The sounded echoed around the tiny room. Kitty threw her head back and laughed. He grabbed Tony's hair and tugged. He bent down so his mouth was right next to Tony's ear. "I wouldn't piss me off, Detective DiNozzo." He tugged again. "You're not here for me." Lance released Tony and moved back to the doorway.

Tony's breathing was erratic. He didn't yelp or cry out in pain when Lance grabbed him, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt. "Two killers, two modes of killing." He turned and smiled at Lance again. "I take it you do the beating, and Kitty here does the stabbing."

Lance nodded. "You would be correct, Detective. And Kitty here has already laid a claim to you."

Tony's jaw worked, whether in fear or anger, Jethro couldn't tell. Personally, Jethro was getting pissed. He couldn't understand why Tony couldn't just shut up. They had to survive, and the younger man was not making that an easy goal. He understood the desire to piss their captives off, but he had enough sense not to act on it. Jethro honestly thought that Tony was smarter than that.

"Why did you choose us?" The three of them turned to him again. "You set it up so you could get Tony and me. Why?"

Lance smirked. "I've been killing men for the better part of my adult life, Agent Gibbs. I've never been so much as questioned." Jethro could see the man getting angrier and angrier with every word that he spoke. "No, the police always overlooked me, just like everybody else. In all my years of killing, they never once thought about me!"

Jethro shrugged. "Usually that just means that you're good."

During his tirade, Lance moved right in front of Jethro. His jaw was set tight and his eyes were on fire, but otherwise he remained relatively blank. Then he drew back and backhanded Jethro across the face.

He jerked his head to the side, blood and spit spraying out of his mouth. His face burned. But like any good Marine, he turned back, and stared down the man. He wouldn't let him see his pain. "I take it mommy and daddy didn't love you." He didn't know why he said it, he was just complaining that Tony was talking too much, and now here he goes.

Lance knelt down in front of him. "Are you a psychiatrist, Special Agent Gibbs?"

Jethro shook his head. "No. But the way you're talking, you wanted to be caught. You wanted somebody to know who you are. That's why you chose the men that you did. Hawthorne, Quail, Macy, Daxon. All alone, just like you."

Lance smiled. "You're forgetting two chief characters, _Leroy_." Jethro sneered at the use of his given name. "You and Anthony over there." He pointed over his shoulder. He chuckled. "You haven't spoken to your father in almost twenty years. Divorced three times." He tsked.

Then, still with a smile on his face, he leaned in till his lips brushed against Jethro's ear. "You're first wife and daughter, murdered before their time. You never were able to fully live again after that, were you?" He pulled back. Jethro struggled against his cuffs. Every ounce of his being wanted to knock that smile right off Lance's face. And keep punching until his face caved in and he stopped breathing.

Lance jerked to his feet in an instant. "And you, Anthony DiNozzo _Jr_. You have never been married, never had any kids. Your mother's dead." Tony glared at him, but that didn't deter their captor. "Answer me this, Anthony—"

"That's Detective DiNozzo to you."

Lance chuckled again. "Detective DiNozzo, when was the last time you spoke to your father, hmm?" The younger man tensed. Lance chuckled. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" He moved closer and pulled Kitty off Tony's lap. "He blamed you for your mother's death, and he just," he shook his head in mock pity. "He could never get over losing her, could he? Married countless times after that, dragged you around with him. Lost his sanity in a bottle of Brandy."

Tony turned away from him. Jethro watched as an array of emotions crossed the young man's face. First was anger. Angry that Lance would even bring up his childhood. Sadness, probably at the loss of his mother and his father's drunken state. But the last one was the one that truly bothered Jethro. _Humiliation_.

Lance continued on as if he was just discussing the weather. "He loved that bottle more than you, didn't he? I'm sure he was a great man as some point in his life, I'm sure he was even a great father. But he couldn't see you without thinking about the woman he lost. Is that why he sent you off to military school? So he wouldn't have to look at you? Or did he just want you to be miserable? After your mother's death, Dennis Morgan's mother took you in, didn't she? She made you a part of their family." He chuckled. "But your father couldn't have that. He couldn't have a little punk like you happy." He leaned down so his face was only inches from Tony's. Jethro could barely hear the words he spoke next, but he did hear them. "He couldn't let the boy who killed his wife live happily ever after."

Tony jerked forward and slammed his forehead into Lance's nose. Hard. Lance fell back, holding his nose as blood already started pouring out of it. Jethro was suddenly incredibly proud of the cop.

Kitty stepped up with a knife in her hand. Jethro struggled to stand, but to no avail. Even if he did somehow manage to climb out of his seat, he would have been too late. Kitty swiped the knife across Tony's torso. He cringed, and groaned, but he didn't cry or scream. He took it.

She placed the knife against his throat and leaned in closer. "If I were you, I'd watch myself." She pulled away and leaned against the wall farthest from the men. She crossed her arms and scowled at Tony.

Lance stood up, wiping the blood off on his tie. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted." He sniffed, wriggling his nose around. "We chose you two for a reason."

"Because our family life sucks?" Tony said through the pain.

Lance chuckled. "That was definitely a factor, but sadly, not the whole story. No, we chose you because you are the best." He turned to Jethro. "You, Agent Gibbs are a dedicated man. You never stop once you are on a case. You never let your personal feelings get in the way of an investigation. You do not care if your Agency gets the credit for solving a case, so long as it's solved." He chuckled. "You truly are a bleeding heart, aren't you?"

Jethro looked up, hoping he appeared blank. "You had to give us a review of our lives just to tell us you chose me because I'm a bleeding heart?" The more he spoke, the more annoyed he got.

Lance smiled. "Habit. I enjoy hurting my victims." He turned to Tony, as if Jethro never interrupted. "And you." He shook his head in amusement. "Twenty-nine years old and already a lead detective. You grew up in privilege, but you aren't afraid to get your hands dirty. You're good with people, and your track record is amazing. You strive to be the center of attention, and you never fail, do you?"

Tony smiled. "You got a bloody booger on your lip."

Jethro pushed the smile away as Lance wiped at his mouth. Their captor burst out laughing. "You two are going to be a lot of fun." He turned to Jethro. "I want you to know, Agent Gibbs, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. That's why I chose you. I thought, if anyone was ever going to catch me, it would be the two of you." His eyes darted between the two prisoners.

"Is that why you took us, or why you taunted us with a bad poem?" Jethro asked.

"Hey!" Kitty yelled in protest. "I wrote that poem."

Jethro snorted. "Don't quit your day job."

Kitty raised her knife higher. "Kitty!" Lance shouted. He turned to her and glared at her. Slowly she dropped the knife back down. Lance turned back to Jethro. "We taunted you, as you put it, yes, because I believed you would be an admirable foe. But we took you for two very different reasons." The smile he wore sent shivers down Jethro's spine.

"You kill us, and you'll never get the recognition you want."

Lance chuckled again. "Au contraire, Agent Gibbs. I kill a highly honored, Silver Star recipient, federal agent, and get away with it?" He laughed louder this time. "I'll be more famous than Jack the Ripper, The Zodiac Killer. More famous than Manson and the Black bloody Dahlia."

Jethro smiled. "Black Dahlia was a murder victim, not the killer."

When Lance and Kitty first walked into the room, he couldn't understand why Tony insisted on baiting them. Now he understood. He couldn't figure a way out. He couldn't break free of the flex cuffs. He was going to be beaten, and then he was going to freeze to death. He had been in combat, he's killed many men in his life, faced incredibly dangerous situations. But he's never been tied up, defenseless before. And it scared him.

Pissing off his killers seemed to make the fear lessen.

Lance closed his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. "Regardless." He opened his eyes again. "I will be the one that terrifies this country. It's taken me twenty years, but I finally realize, it's the killers who aren't caught that live in infamy. And I will be among some of the greatest." He smiled, probably thinking about the future.

"What's the second reason?" Tony spoke up. He coughed up the words. Jethro felt his stomach clench. He hadn't noticed before now just how deep the cut was. What was once a relatively crisp white shirt was slowly turning crimson as more of his blood seeped through.

All eyes turned to him. Tony gulped before speaking. "You s-said there were two different reasons. What's the second?"

Jethro didn't like the way that Lance smiled. "Kitty thinks you are a very attractive man, Detective DiNozzo." Tony's already pale face paled even more. Jethro found himself struggling harder.

Lance turned to Kitty, scowling. "I hope you didn't cut him too deep my dear. You don't want him to die too soon."

Kitty smiled. "Don't worry. It looks worse than it is. Trust me, Lance, I'm a professional."

"Doctor?" Tony asked.

"Almost, med student." She handed the knife to Lance and stepped closer. Jethro finally took notice of her outfit. An incredibly short skirt and t-shirt. She looked much more professional when he saw her earlier.

Lance headed towards the door. "Do hurry, my dear, I have a feeling that their coworkers are going to try and look for them soon. Especially after the last part of the poem. Oh and one more thing." He turned back to his accomplice. "Don't kiss him on the mouth, I have a feeling he wouldn't appreciate that much." He walked out. Jethro heard the loud lock click back into place.

Kitty once again straddled Tony's legs. He pulled away as far as he could, but because of the chair, that wasn't very far at all. "What was the last part of the poem?"

Kitty hiked up skirt. "Nine, ten, come get the bad men, before they die, 'tective Morgan." She slid her hand down the front of his pants.

* * *

**More 'whumping' soon to come. I hope you enjoyed this, and I will try to get the next chapter out very soon. Well, let me know what you think, and I will see you all soon!**

**Bob**


	20. Chapter 19

**I'd like to apologize for this being such a short chapter, I believe the next one is a little longer though, if that helps at all. But this was an incredibly hard chapter for me to stomach, so that's probably why it's as short as it is.**

* * *

**Nineteen**

Jethro could do nothing but watch. Kitty's hips gyrated against Tony. Her hand disappeared between them while her mouth attacked his throat. Jethro continued to struggle against his bindings, but to no avail. They just wouldn't budge. If anything, he was just cutting the hell out of his wrists.

Tony's eyes darted to the ceiling. Kitty ripped his shirt open. Jethro got a good look at the cut on his torso. Kitty was right, it looked ugly, but it couldn't have been very deep. Most likely it just hurt like hell. That bitch really knew what she was doing.

"Don't fight it." He heard her whisper. "You'll do what I want, sooner or later." She licked his ear. "The less you fight, the sooner it'll be over."

"Tony." Jethro cracked out. The young man wouldn't meet his eyes. "Tony, talk to me." He knew what Kitty was trying to do. He had to help Tony the only way he could. "You play any sports?"

"Shut up, old man!" Kitty shouted. She pushed herself further into Tony's lap. Her fingers pinched his nipples. "Just give in, baby."

"Football and basketball. I almost went pro, but I broke my leg in the fourth quarter." Jethro's eyebrows shot up. That was pretty damn impressive.

"Which sport did you almost go pro?"

"Football."

"Where did you play?"

"I said shut up!" Kitty shouted again, turning to him. Her shirt was hiked up above her bra. "I will kill you, you stupid bastard!" She turned back to Tony.

"Ohio State." Tony answered.

Jethro nodded. He had to keep Tony talking. And keep him talking about non-sexual things. A lot of people seemed to think that men can't be raped by women because they have to consent in order to get an erection. But really, there's only so much rubbing and grinding a guy can take before he reacts. Kitty was playing on that. "What was your major?"

"Phys Ed." He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Speak any foreign languages?"

"What is this, a job interview?" Tony clenched his eyes shut tight. Kitty was kicking up her assault.

"Let's say yes."

Tony sighed, his breathing coming out heavy, but even. "Spanish. A little Italian, but that serves a purpose."

Jethro was about to ask what purpose when he realized it was probably something sexual.

Kitty groaned. She leaned in, her lips against Tony's ear. "I know you don't want me, baby," she whispered. "But I know who you do want." Tony's eyes clenched tighter. "I know how badly you want her." She nibbled his ear. "I could be her for you. Just let me. Let me give you what you want. Let me be her." She said more, but Jethro couldn't hear it.

The next thing he knew, Tony was cursing and dropping his head onto his chest. Jethro cursed. He knew what that meant.

Before he could say anything, Kitty climbed on top of him and pushed her hips forward. Tony never opened his eyes. He was most likely trying to get his friend to go back down. But the way that Kitty was crying out, he wasn't having a lot of luck.

Jethro felt powerless. He hated feeling powerless, but he didn't know how to help the poor bastard. All he could do was stare and watch as Tony was assaulted. Hell, he was being _raped _right before his eyes, and Jethro couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Kitty bucked her hips, forwards and backwards, her moans were loud. They were the only sound breaking the silence in the room. Jethro wanted to look away, give Tony as least some peace that his humiliation wasn't being displayed for all to see. But he couldn't pry his eyes away.

He struggled against his seat, but it was no use. The cuffs wouldn't give, his knives were taken, his gun. You can't pick a flex cuff, at least without the use of teeth.

Tony dropped his head against his chest, his eyes were still closed, but Jethro could make out a single tear sliding down his cheek.

Kitty's movements picked up and her screams got louder. Jethro finally turned away before he threw up. The hate he felt for these people just intensified. They couldn't just kill them, no they had to destroy them first. And for what? To be remembered? Sometimes he seriously doubted there was such a thing as a decent human being over the age of ten anymore.

The woman finally stopped. Her breathing was heavy as she plopped her head down on Tony's chest. Tony finally opened his eyes, but Jethro didn't see any sadness, any pain. Instead, all he saw was incredible, intense rage. The kind of rage he felt when his wife and daughter were killed.

Kitty pulled back. "That was absolutely incredible." She ran her hands up and down his torso again. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. The next thing Jethro knew, she was pulling back, screaming in pain.

She jumped off of Tony and moved towards the door. Blood dripped down her chin, as well as Tony's. He bit her.

"You stupid bastard!" She searched around, probably looking for her knife. But she had given it to Lance before he left. Good luck for Tony, but a stupid move on her part. "Just for that, you're death is going to be slow and painful!"

"I thought it already was." Despite everything that just happened, he sounded so calm and confident. Like he wasn't tied to a chair, bleeding profusely after he was just raped. Once again, Jethro felt pride swell inside of him.

But Kitty didn't share his sentiment. She strode in front of him again and backhanded him across the face. She threw all of her body weight—all one hundred and fifteen pounds—into that slap. Tony's head jerked to the side, and his eyes clenched in pain, but he didn't cry out. Not even when she wheeled back and slapped him across his gash.

Kitty grabbed his hair and jerked it back. She moved her face within inches of his own. "When I get back, I am going to make you sorry. Do you understand me?"

He glared at her, like he was trying to figure out if there was a way to beat her to death without his arms. "If I say no, will it make any difference?"

To both of their surprises, she chuckled. She released his hair and stepped away. "Lance was right, you are a handful." She left without so much as a backwards glance.

The two of them were silent. Tony refused to meet Jethro's gaze, despite the fact that the older man was practically drilling holes in him with his eyes. Instead, he focused his gaze on his lap. Kitty never bothered to tuck him back in.

"DiNozzo—" Jethro was cut off when Tony jerked his head up.

"Don't. Ok? I don't need to hear it." Yet again, he sounded like he was barely holding on. Jethro couldn't blame him.

He didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone when they've just been raped? How do you cheer someone up when he knows he's just going to die in a few hours? What do you do when you can't even move?

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Tony chuckled bitterly. "Gibbs, come on! You think that was the first time a woman took sex from me without my consent?" He laughed outright. "I mean look at me! Who can resist me?" He tried to sound cheerful and his usual goofy self, but it came out more bitter and resentful.

Jethro felt his heart break. "They may not have had your verbal consent, but I'm sure you were still a willing participant." Tony's smile fell.

Again, he turned away from the older man. "I was this time too."

Jethro shook his head, appalled. Not because he believed him, he didn't. He was appalled that Tony could even think that. "DiNozzo, a person's body reacts to physical touch. The same thing would've happened to me if she was touching me like that."

"Now you're just trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

Tony shook his head. "Not even remotely." He finally looked back up. "But I appreciate the effort."

Jethro gave him a half cocked grin. It was the best he could do in the situation. "Why don't we work on how to get outta here?"

Tony smiled brightly. That felt better. "That sounds like fun. Impossible, but fun."

"Our hands are bound, it doesn't mean we can't escape. You still got your knife?"

Tony shook his head. "Knife, gun," he looked down at his feet, "I think they even took my shoelaces."

Jethro looked down at his own feet. Sure enough, his laces were gone too. Clever, they couldn't choke Lance and Kitty with the strings, and running was a bitch without your shoes tied. He wriggled around, trying to feel something against his hip. Nothing. His gun was gone too. He couldn't feel his boot knife against his ankle, nor could he feel the bulge in his pocket.

Tony squinted his eyes in thought. "What about the chairs?" He tried to wriggle enough to tip himself over.

"Bolted to the ground. I figured that out earlier when I was trying to get free to stop Kitty." The entire time he spoke he didn't look at the younger man. There was no point. He knew that Tony would just stare at him in shock, and Jethro didn't need to see that to know that he failed. "Our legs are bound together too."

"Ok," Tony cracked his jaw. "I have a plan. They're gonna have to move us to freeze us, right?" He waited for Jethro to nod. "They're gonna have to release our legs. So we wait until they're ready to move us, and we attack."

Jethro was silent as he contemplated that. "Except by the time they move us, we'll be on the brink of death."

Tony paused, his face bunched up in embarrassment. "Well I never said it was a good plan."

"It's a terrible plan."

"You got anything better?"

Jethro nodded. "Yeah, we die."

"Not much of a plan there Gibbs." He paused again. "Hey, why did Lance call you Leroy?"

Jethro tensed. "It's my name." A name he detested.

Tony was confused. "I thought your name was Jethro?"

"It is." Tony gave him a look resembling a confused puppy dog. It lacked its usual appeal with the blood dripping out of his mouth. Jethro rolled his eyes. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs. But I prefer Jethro." The only people who ever called him 'Leroy' were the people in his home town.

Tony scoffed. "Either way you pulled the short straw when it came to names."

Jethro glared, but it probably didn't have the usual effect, being tied up and all.

They were quiet again. There was nothing else to talk about. There was no reason to talk about the case, not only did they solve it, but they were going to become part of it. They shared enough of their personal lives. And it was clear that Tony didn't want to talk about the rape. There was nothing left to do except sit, and wait to die.

The door opened with another _clank_. Lance and Kitty strode in. He was carrying a block of wood, and she had her knife again.

Tony looked up at them, all smiles again. "Time to play already?"

* * *

**Well I hope you liked it. Again, very hard to stomach this chapter. Really made me hate Kitty. And I'm writing her.**

**On another note, I would like to ask you guys a question. The story is almost done, and I'm almost finished writing it. HOWEVER, I'm having a dilemma. I'm working on a chapter that is about six pages on Word right now, and there's one more short segment that I have to write before I can write the resolution. Now, my question for you guys is, would you like the two segments separated into two relatively short chapters, or would you prefer just one long chapter? Do you want to keep the story going a little bit longer, or would you like to know what happens to our two favorite heroes sooner? It's your choice, let me know!**

**Bob**


	21. Chapter 20

**Well, the people have spoken! The majority of you said you want just the one long chapter, so I apologize to all those who wanted two shorter chapters. Hopefully I'll finish the next chapter tonight after work. But I'm short on time right now, but I wanted to get you guys a chapter as soon as possible.**

**I went back through and fixed my grammatical mistakes, but you don't have to reread the chapter, it's still the same thing, I just felt bad that I didn't proofread. **

**Last comment, only two chapters left before the story is complete! Aren't you guys excited?**

* * *

**Twenty**

Captain Williams sat in the interrogation room. Dennis was a little disappointed. The room was a little on the darker side, but it was still a nice room. Back in Baltimore, their interrogation rooms had stained concrete walls, flickering lights and wobbly chairs. There was nothing sanitary or pleasant about them. They helped with intimidation.

NCIS was completely different. Actually the walls looked like they were stain resistant. Sitting in this room for a few hours—while boring—probably wouldn't cause a person to break.

Dennis stood in the corner and watched as Stan questioned the Captain. So far, he wasn't giving. Not so much as an inch.

"I have not lied to you once, Agent Burley."

Stan chuckled. "That's 'cause you haven't talked to me yet, Captain. No, you lied to my partner." He cocked his head to the side. "Agent Langer."

Williams stared at the mirror behind Stan's head, completely void of emotion, or reaction. Stan kept talking. He opened up a file folder in front of him. "See this? This is Corporal Kellan Hawthorne's service record. Now, you say you haven't lied to us, but your story doesn't match with this record. You say that Corporal Hawthorne was an average Marine. But this paper tells me that he excelled in hand to hand combat. _You_ tell me you barely noticed he existed, but _this_ tells me that you suggested him for promotion to Sergeant. Do you see where I'm going with this, Captain?"

Williams was quiet for a moment, still staring straight ahead. After a while, he took a deep breath. "Corporal Hawthorne _was_ a good Marine, Agent Burley. That's why I put in for a promotion for him. But a few months before he disappeared, he changed."

Stan smiled. "See, why couldn't you just say that in the first place?" He leaned against the table. "What changed?"

Williams shook his head. "I'm not really sure, but he started slacking. Before he would strive to be the best." Williams' eyes shifted down and to the right. "And then he just coasted." He turned his gaze to stare straight at Stan. "I was angry with him, we had words."

"How heated were those words?"

Williams' ground his jaw together. "Are you insinuating something, Agent Burley?"

Stan nodded. "Yeah, I am." He stood up and leaned closer to the Marine. "Did you kill Corporal Hawthorne?" He spoke so quietly, so calmly, yet the question was completely loaded.

Williams jerked to his feet and made to grab Stan. In a flash he was away and against the mirror. Dennis stepped between them with his hand trained on his gun. Williams took a moment to calm his nerves, but when he spoke, there was still a lot of aggravation in his tone. "I am a Captain in the Marine Corps, Agent Burley. As such, you will speak to me with the respect that I earned."

"I don't respect men who kill members of their unit, Captain."

"I did not kill Kellan."

"What happened, Captain? You two had words, you got angry and what? You hit him? You just kept hitting him." Stan moved back so he was standing in Williams' face again. "Then he just stopped moving. You started to panic, you couldn't let anybody find his body. So you froze him. You didn't know that he was still alive. And then you waited, and waited. Nobody came looking, for him, for you. So you got cocky. Got the bloodlust?" Williams was shaking with anger. Dennis moved closer, fully prepared to shoot this guy if he attacked his new partner. But Stan didn't seem to notice. Or just didn't care. "So you killed again. And when you didn't get caught again, you killed a third and a fourth time! And now you've kidnapped an NCIS agent, and a Baltimore detective—"

Williams lunged.

Dennis jumped in the way. He grabbed hold of Williams' arms and squeezed. When the Marine tried to throw him off, Dennis fell to the ground, taking Williams down with him. The Marine was all muscle, and he had a lot of muscle. It felt like a few of his ribs cracked and breathing became damn near impossible. But he wouldn't let go. Not until the man calmed down.

When it finally felt that Williams was breathing normally again, he released him. The man stood up and moved back to his seat on the opposite side of the table. Dennis was a little slower getting up. Stan came over and helped him to his feet. He had a look on his face that Dennis didn't like. It almost looked… smug.

"You just attacked us, Captain." He tsked. "That's not usually what innocent men do."

It looked like Williams was about to strike again when there was a knock at the door. A few seconds later, Langer walked in, looking like a sheep walking into the lion's den. The other three men just stared at him with different levels of annoyance.

He cleared his throat. "I, uh, need to talk to you two." Neither Stan nor Dennis moved. "Now, preferably."

The two men turned to each other. Stan jerked his head towards the door. "You go, I'll watch Captain Williams." Dennis nodded and followed Langer out of the room.

Out in the hallway, Langer handed him a new file. "It looks like I may have been right."

Dennis opened the file and studied it. "Don't count your chickens just yet, Langer, he hasn't confessed yet."

Langer stepped closer and talked quieter. "Six months ago, Captain Williams had a doctor check up, somebody beat the hell out of him."

Dennis studied the photos in the medical file. They were scarce, but the few shots that were there looked like they hurt like hell. "Corporal Hawthorne was good at hand to hand."

Langer nodded. "Hawthorne fought back. That seals my theory's deal. Williams kept hitting Hawthorne because they were in a brawl. Hawthorne's death was an accident, but he still got bloodlust."

Dennis shook his head. "There's weren't any defensive wounds on the body." He looked back up to see Langer's confused face. "Ducky said that Hawthorne and Macy were killed by blunt force trauma with a weapon. My sister's completely obsessed with fighting, I come at her with a bat, her natural instinct is to put her arms up to defend her face. Hawthorne didn't do that."

"He had to have. It's in William's file!"

Dennis closed the folder and held it up in Langer's face. "This doesn't prove anything." He dropped his arm. "Do you have any profiler training, Langer?"

The question seemed to throw the young man; it took him a while to answer. "I took a seminar at FLETC."

Dennis nodded. "Yeah, I had to take one of those too. Tony kept tossing paper balls at my head." He shook the memory off. "There's something about the eyes, that the way they move can tell you something?"

Langer nodded. "Looking down and to the left, means the suspect is lying. Looking down and to the right, means they're recalling a memory.

Dennis thought about that for a while. Suddenly it dawned on him. At least he thought it did. "Turn off the camera. Mikes too."

Langer's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I told you to. I want no film, and no sound of this interview, do you understand me?"

"That's completely against protocol, Gibbs'll have my ass—"

"I don't give a damn what Gibbs will or will not do. I'm telling you right now, I don't want _any_ footage of this interview." He took the file with him back into the interrogation room.

Stan was still standing by the mirror, just watching Williams. The Captain stared down at the table, his face completely blank. Dennis pulled the other chair around the table so he was sitting next to Williams, instead of across from him. The Marine didn't react.

Dennis sighed heavily. "I know."

Williams ground his teeth together. "Know what, Detective?"

"About you and Kellan."

Williams finally looked up to meet his gaze. "I don't know what you are talking about, Detective." Dennis was never all that great at reading people, but he could see the lie written all over this guy's face.

"Yeah you do. Kellan worked harder than any other man in his unit, because he wanted to impress you, didn't he? He wanted you to notice him." Williams looked away again. "Did you love him?"

"Are you accusing me of something, Detective?" His words were said with anger, but his face showed a completely different emotion: fear.

"You knew intimate details about Kellan's life. The kinds of things he would only tell a close friend." His eyes fell away from Williams. "Or a lover. He told you about his mother. How he was a rape baby. And not because you were his CO, but because he trusted you far more than that."

Williams scoffed. He finally turned towards the cop. "You've never been a Marine, have you Detective? We have to trust each other with our lives."

"But not with your body." Williams looked away again. Dennis shook his head. "The cameras are off. This isn't being recorded. I'm not here to destroy your career, Sir." He added the _sir_ to show Williams that he had his respect. "I just want to know what happened to Kellan."

Williams didn't say anything for a moment. His eyes stayed glued to the table. Dennis decided he needed one more push. "How long were you two sleeping together?"

Williams closed his eyes as a tear leaked out. "About three years, Detective."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stan's jaw drop. But Dennis just nodded. "So his plan worked? He got you to take notice?"

Williams nodded. "He was very persuasive."

Dennis smiled. "You weren't lying about his change, though, were you? He stopped trying to grab your attention, didn't want to see you personally anymore."

Williams shook his head. "I tried to ask him what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk to me. When I finally got him alone, he attacked me."

Dennis tossed his medical file on the table. "He hit you. Pretty badly too. But you didn't report him."

Williams shook his head. "He didn't mean it. It was their fault."

Dennis felt his gut clench. "Who's fault?"

"Some Evangelical Reverend and his daughter. They got to him. Freaked him out." He was getting angry again. "They told him that they just wanted to help him." He shook his head. "But they broke him."

"He was closeted?"

Williams chuckled bitterly. "Every gay Marine in the country is closeted. Kellan was a self hater. I kept trying to… help him. And when I finally thought I got through." He stopped.

Dennis nodded. "They came and messed it all up again." He turned to Stan, like always, there was no judgment on his face. Although there was a little bit of shock. "I need the name of the reverend."

"I abandoned him. He needed help. I'm his," he stopped again and swallowed a lump in his throat. "I was his CO. He was in trouble and I didn't have his back. I loved him, and I walked away."

Dennis sighed. "The man you loved, loved you back. That's more than most of us will ever get. Yeah, you could say all you want that you let Kellan down. But you can make this right. Help me find out who killed him. Help me find my partner." He paused. "The man that I love. Please. I _need _their names."

Silence engulfed the tiny room. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Dennis could feel his heart pounding in his throat. "His name was John Markway. Hers was Eleanor Lance."

Stan was out the door in a second. Dennis stayed long enough to thank the Captain before he rose. "You should tell him." Williams called out. Dennis turned around to face him. "You might be surprised by the results."

Dennis smiled. "No I won't." He walked out.

He strode back out into the squad room to find Langer and Stan already at their computers, typing away furiously. Stan looked up. "How the hell did you know?"

"I'll tell you when you tell me about Markway and Lance."

Stan nodded and got back to typing. After a few minutes his shoulders sagged. "They're not in the system."

Dennis groaned. "Check the DMV, check the Bar Association, anything!"

Stan stood straight up. "Dennis I am telling you that they don't exist!"

Langer cleared his throat incredibly loud. The two men turned to him. "Um, actually, I just did a random search and um."

Dennis waited fifteen seconds before he freaked out. "Spit it out!"

"John Markway and Eleanor Lance are the names of two characters in the movie _The Haunting_." Silence followed.

Dennis, very calmly, picked up the stapler on Gibbs' desk and chucked it at the young agent. Langer barely ducked in time. "Are you telling me that our killers used an alias from a freaking movie?"

Stan groaned. "Yet another great lead down the toilet. We got nothing on these guys!" He moved away from his desk.

Langer sat back and cocked his head to the side. "You didn't even like Williams for a suspect."

"Yeah and I was right about that, wasn't I?" He swiped a hand down his face. "I was talking about Harker."

"Who?"

Dennis glared at Stan. The blonde man shut his eyes and got a look on his face like he knew he seriously screwed up. He cursed under his breath. "After we found the note and everything that happened, I forgot to call you and get you to run the check on him." He opened his eyes and stared directly at his partner. "You tell Gibbs about this and I'll tell him that you were the one who shot the sedan on the Beiber case."

Dennis rolled his eyes. "Well it doesn't matter anyways, Jonathon Harker is dead."

Langer's ears piqued up. "Jonathon Harker? Seriously?"

The cop threw his head back and groaned. "What are you gonna tell me something about Christopher Reeves too?"

"_Keanu _Reeves, he played Jonathon Harker in the movie, _Dracula_."

Stan looked at him curiously. "You saw _Dracula_?"

Langer shrugged. "It was my favorite book. Jonathon Harker was a crucial character in the plot. His fiancé, Mina was the one that Dracula was after." The other two men stopped.

"Mina Murray?" Dennis asked.

Langer turned to him, he didn't seem to understand the point of the question. "Yes?" He drew the word out for at least five seconds.

Dennis mentally slapped himself. How could he have been so stupid? "That was the name of Harker's assistant."

"Receptionist." Stan corrected. Dennis mentally scolded himself again.

"She called herself his assistant when she called earlier." He shook his head. "She wasn't either! She's the freaking killer!"

"But I thought Harker's dead."

"That's what they wanted us to think. Don't you get it? We didn't check out the scene because we thought Harker killed himself. They knew we'd question him—"

"And they threw us off their scent." Stan finished. He mentally chided himself as well. He moved back around his desk and picked up his phone.

After a moment he started speaking again. "Yeah, hi, I need to speak with Jonathon Harker, please?" He waited. "The manager?" He paused again. "And who am I speaking to?" He rolled his head around. "Yeah, thank you." He hung up. "Nobody named Jonathon Harker ever worked at MTCSC, Inc and the receptionist is a fella named Oliver Greanleaf."

Dennis shook his head. "They purposely scheduled our meeting during lunch hour. The real manager and receptionist were out at lunch, along with half the staff. They kept us waiting so that bastard could get his act together." He thought of something. "Langer, look up the name Stephen Price."

"Why?"

Stan stood up and crossed the room again. "That's the guy that Kyle Daxon was meeting the night that he died. Check movies."

Langer typed furiously at his keyboard for a few seconds when something dinged. He glanced up through his eyelashes. "_House on Haunted Hill_."

Dennis could have slapped himself. That figured. "Stan, remind me that the next time Tony invites me over for a movie marathon, I go."

"I'll join you." Stan picked up and gun, badge and jacket from his desk. "Langer! You're with me, we're heading up to MTCSC."

Langer stood up and grabbed his things, but he was still a little hesitant. "Why?"

"Fingerprints!" Dennis and Stan called simultaneously.

Stan finished at the elevator. "Mina, or whatever the hell her name is touched the receptionist's desk, she might be in the system. But we gotta find it, now move!"

Langer still didn't move very far. "But what about him?" He pointed at Dennis.

"I'll be down in the forensics lab, doing a sketch of Harker and Mina." Langer nodded. He finally started moving faster.

Dennis stood in the middle of the bullpen, all by himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Then he opened his eyes and headed for the stairs.

* * *

**Hoped you enjoyed! And I'll see you all again soon!**

**Bob**


	22. Chapter 21

**You asked, I came through! One long chapter. A lot happens here, so be prepared. But I liked it. After this all that's left is the epilogue and this story is officially done! Now, I will probably have the epilogue up in a few days, tops. It's short, so there's really no reason to make you guys wait too long. Still appreciate comments though.**

* * *

**Twenty-One**

Tony didn't stop smiling after Lance and Kitty walked back in the room. He knew that the knife was meant for him. He also knew that it was gonna hurt like hell. The cut across his torso still hurt like a bitch.

He was absolutely terrified. They thought of everything. There was no chance that he and Gibbs would survive the attack and there was no way for them to fight. So he put on a smile and tossed his head back. "Hey, I need some help, my nose has been itching like crazy, do you think you can scratch it for me?"

"How about I cut it off, then it won't itch anymore." Kitty held the knife up. Her lip was still pretty bloody from when he bit her.

His smile widened. "No thanks, I like my nose. Just like I think you liked your mouth, Kitty." She glared at him. "You're gonna stab me again, aren't ya?"

"Oh yeah." She crossed the room and jabbed the knife in his shoulder. He had to clench his teeth together to stop from crying out. The pain was excruciating, made even worse when she wriggled the weapon around. A tear slid down his cheek that he couldn't stop.

She pulled the knife out and Tony released the breath that he was holding. He looked up directly into Kitty's eyes, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

She turned away to look at Lance. He crossed the room and stood in front of Gibbs. He kept bouncing the block of wood against his palm. The smile finally faded from Tony's face. Lance pulled back and slammed the wood across Gibbs' face.

The older man grunted in pain. His head thrown to the side, and staying there. Blood oozed out of his mouth. Lance delivered another blow to his stomach.

Kitty stepped directly into his path. He could no longer see what was happening to Gibbs. But he heard it. Every whack of the wood, every grunt and groan of pain Gibbs made. Tony wanted to help, wanted to stop Lance. But then Kitty sliced across the top of his chest.

"Don't worry, Detective, I'm not gonna touch your face. It's far too pretty."

Tony bit back the groan as she jabbed the knife in the side of his abs. "I appreciate that, Kitty Kat, I really do." He heard another whack on Gibbs' end. "Take it Lance doesn't think that Gibbs is too pretty?"

Kitty turned around just as another smack sounded. "Apparently not."

Tony sneered at her. "Can I ask you something?"

Kitty turned back to him. "Shoot."

"Why do you do this? Lance does it because he wants to be famous. What's your excuse?"

"How do you know I don't have the same problem?"

"Girls who look like you are never overlooked. And you're a med student, which tells me you're bright. 'Bright' and 'beautiful' aren't associated with 'ignored.'"

Kitty smiled brighter. He heard another whack and a grunt. He ignored it and asked again. "So?"

"I killed my little brother when I was fourteen, told my parents it was a burglar. I guess," she jabbed the knife into his thigh, "I just thought it was fun."

Tony ground his teeth together to stop the scream that erupted in his throat. "Cute," he said through heavy pants. "Haven't seen a female sociopath before. It's a nice change."

"Thank you." She slashed the knife across his chest again, this time going in the opposite direction as the first. That time he couldn't stop from crying out. Kitty finally stepped away. Tony got a good look at Gibbs. He didn't look any better. Half of his face was puffed up, blood was oozing out of his mouth and nose. His head was hanging pitifully.

Lance wound back and cracked him in the side of his knee. The noise that Gibbs made was hard to describe. It was like a scream, mixed with a whimper, and just a hint of a sob. It was hard to stomach, but what made it even worse was the look on Lance's face. The bastard looked freaking blissful. He was enjoying what he was doing. Hell, he was practically getting off on it.

"Stop!" He yelled when Lance was about to beat him again. Lance and Kitty turned to him. Even Gibbs raised his head a bit. "You keep hitting him, you're gonna kill him. You really wanna break your pattern for _him_?" He said it with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Lance asked, moving away from Gibbs.

Tony scoffed. "Well, I mean he's a pain in the ass, he never talks. And he keeps slapping the back of my head, I mean I'm gonna get brain damage from this guy. Or go bald."

Gibbs smiled through the blood. "You think you're a walk in the park, DiNozzo?" He turned to Kitty. "You might wanna get checked out, this guy chases after every skirt he sees. Hell if that meat was wearing a skirt he'd probably he all over it."

"Well, I'm sorry if you called dibbs on that cute redhead waitress at the diner, but come on, is it really my fault I'm better looking that you?"

Gibbs scoffed. "You got youth on your side, I'll give you that, DiNozzo. But women like my maturity, my intensity—"

"Your white hair? A touch of gray is distinguished, but a full head of gray hair just says grandfather."

Gibbs turned back to Lance and Kitty. "He likes to act like he's such a great investigator, but he gets half of his information from his partner, and then just takes the credit."

"Yeah, and that's so much worse than a guy who hands over the credit to everybody else? What's that about? 'Oh, I'm so great, I can solve just about any crime, but just in case I can't, you can have all the responsibility. If this goes sour, it may cost you _your _job, but I get to keep my damn reputation.'" Tony's head movements were very animated, he bounced around like a bobblehead.

Gibbs on the other hand just smiled around all of the blood. "Oh, so now you're worried about losing your job? Ten minutes ago, you were worried about getting killed!"

"You know, I think that's how your record's so perfect. You mess up, it wasn't your case, it was the local boneheads!"

"I earned that record! You think you're so great because you've done a decent job in four months? Try keeping that record up for ten years and then come talk to me."

Tony turned to Lance again. "You know he vomited all over his CO when he made his first kill. Doesn't sound very tough, does it?"

"You wet your pants!" Gibbs shouted indignantly.

"Prove it!" Tony shouted right back.

"Enough!" Lance yelled. The two glared at each other. "You know, I don't think I can take another second alone with these two!"

"Have to agree with you on that, Lance." Kitty groaned. "I say we just move them now."

Lance nodded. He tossed the bat aside and stepped behind Gibbs. "Leroy first."

"Actually I prefer Special Agent Gibbs, if you don't mind." He said it through a smile.

Tony watched on, trying to keep his face completely void of emotion as Kitty grabbed his feet and Lance grabbed him under the arms. The two of them lifted him out of the chair and carried him. He kept his face completely blank, despite the fact that on the inside, he was cursing up a storm. He didn't think of Lance and Kitty carrying them to the freezer. He was so hoping they'd be forced to walk. His last hope for escape was just dashed.

The pain was unbearable. Sweat rained down his face and breathing was a chore. It was useless. Even if he did somehow manage to escape, he'd never get very far. He'd end up bleeding to death before he left the stupid butcher shop.

He let his head fall back. He stared up at the ceiling, and laughed. He always kind of hoped that he'd go out a cooler way. Like in a rain of bullets, or maybe a hatchet to the back. At the very least, he kind of hoped to die a hero. But no, leave it to fate to make him die as just another victim. Typical.

He heard Kitty's heels again, signaling they were back. "My turn?" He lifted his head to smile at them. He knew he should have been scared. Hell, he should have been terrified. But somehow, he wasn't. He figured it had to be the adrenaline. That would wear off soon, and the panic would rear its ugly nasty head.

Kitty kneeled in front him. "Hey, sweetheart." He whispered to her. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he winked. "Care to fix me there?" He lowered his eyes to his lap for a half a second. He was still exposed.

Kitty smiled and reached up to tuck him back in. She zipped him up and patted him before going back to her original position. He grinned again. "Thanks doll, appreciate it."

"Oh god," Lance groaned. "Do you ever shut up?"

Tony shrugged. "I dunno, but I guess we're gonna find out, huh?"

Lance was silent as he positioned his arms under Tony's shoulders. Tony sucked in a gust of air. Just that tiny little shift in position was agonizing. He couldn't imagine the trip being much more pleasant.

And he was right. As soon as they lifted him out of his chair, the pain went into overdrive. The blood was leaking all over his clothes, and the fabric of his shirt kept rubbing against his wounds the wrong way. Lance and Kitty weren't gentle, either. They moved quickly and efficiently, like they'd done this before. But that didn't stop him from swinging from side to side with every step they took.

That was when he saw it. His coffin. Actually, it was a tiny little deep chest freezer. The lid was open and waiting for him. He would fit, but barely.

The adrenaline wore off.

Fear consumed him. As hard as he could, he fought. He tried to wriggle out of their grips, or prevent them from dropping him in that damn thing at all. But somehow, Lance managed to wriggle his fingers into the gaping gash on his chest. Tony cried out.

"Please, no, don't do this." He was pissed that he resorted to begging, but as he stepped closer, he got a good look inside. He could see the blood smears on the side. Their victims fought to survive until their very last moments. And he did not want to die like that. "Please don't do this."

Kitty chuckled. "Not so cocky anymore, are you?" She lifted his legs into the freezer and let them fall. He tried to stand up straight, but his legs gave out on him. Lance pushed him down so his head disappeared from sight. He could barely protest.

"Please don't do this," he said again as Lance arranged him so he'd be the most comfortable. "Please."

Lance looked him directly in the eye as he spoke. "It's for the best, Detective." There was no regret in his voice. Hell, there was no emotion at all. He signed Tony's death certificate without any care at all. He disappeared behind the rim.

Tony cried out one last time as the lid slammed shut and he was consumed in darkness.

*~*

Abby Scuito worked her magic on the computer, creating a computer image of Harker and Mina. So far Harker was done, there was a picture of him both with and without the handlebar mustache. Now she was just working on Mina.

"Stop." Dennis shouted out. He looked at the picture in front of him. The orange skin, the light brown hair, the almond shaped eyes. "That's her."

Abby nodded sharply, "Ok, well, we'll get a BOLO out on these two." She started typing away on her computer. "And then you're gonna find them." She typed too quickly. She wasn't really sitting next to him, she was in another world. A world that would crumble at any moment.

"Abby." He said quietly.

"And you're gonna find them soon! Before they die!"

"Abby." He grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around to face him. Her mascara was running. He took a deep breath. "We are gonna find them. But I need you to stay calm, ok?"

"Calm? How can I be calm? Gibbs is missing! He was taken by a serial killer who's gonna beat him and stab him, and freeze him! Somebody's gonna try and kill Gibbs in a horrible, terrible way, how can I stay calm?"

"By remembering that Gibbs might die! Abby, my partner is with him. My partner, who's been my best friend since I could walk is on the verge of death right now. But if I don't keep my head on straight, then I won't be able to find him on time. We can't afford to lose our cool." Even as he said it, his voice shook.

Abby stared at him, her face was absolutely terrified, but she was starting to collect her resolve. "I like you more than your partner." She wheeled around to face her computer again.

Dennis turned to Clay in silent question. The older man just shook his head and walked away. His phone rang.

"Morgan."

"I got it!" Stan yelled into the phone. "Mina Murray's real name is Katherine Letter! Her fingerprints were all over the receptionist's desk. Now, she was fingerprinted when she was a teenager when she was arrested for Grand Theft Auto. I just got back from her apartment. Katherine's roommate told me that a guy showed up to see Katherine a few months ago. His description matches Harker."

Dennis stood up and walked out of Abby's office and into the main area of the lab. "Well, that's great, but we still have no idea where they are."

"Yes we do! Katherine Letter works part time at a butcher shop. It's half way through Baltimore and Washington."

Dennis suddenly got excited. Butcher shops had freezers. And most likely ovens. "Give me the address and I'll meet you there." He wrote down what Stan told him and hung up. He looked up just in time to see Abby and Clay staring at him expectantly.

"Did you find them?"

Dennis nodded. "We think so." He strode out of the lab. He took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. It was faster.

He took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that he'd find Tony alive.

*~*

Maneuvering around a tiny little freezer with a dislocated shoulder and broken leg was complicated enough, but trying to do it with his hands tied behind his back was damn near impossible. Jethro screamed out in pain as he tried to pull his arms from behind his back. The cuffs dug into his wrists, and his left arm was practically useless.

He managed to get his hands under his butt and pull them forward under his knees. Each move he made had him crying out in agony and his entire body was shivering from the intense cold, but he couldn't give up. Not just for himself, but for Tony as well. He couldn't let the boy die.

He folded himself in half so he could get his hands in front of him. He took a moment to catch his breath and let the pain die down.

Jethro unhooked his belt buckle, this could very well be his last hope. Something slid into his hand.

For the first time in a while, he actually let himself smile. They took his boot knife, his switch blade, and his Sig Saur, but they didn't get his belt knife. It wasn't particularly large, but it would do what he needed it to do.

He put the handle in his mouth and brought his wrists closer. He kept his teeth clenched tight as he pulled the flex cuff across the blade. In only a few seconds, his wrists were free. His left hand dropped uselessly to his side. He was going to have to pop that back in place, but he couldn't do it alone. Hell, he was barely going to be able to walk with his leg broken.

As best he could, he reached down and cut the binds around his ankle as well. Step two was complete, now he had to finish step three; get out of the damn freezer.

Jethro pushed up on the lid. It lifted probably an inch before it wouldn't move anymore. He groaned. These two used far too many flex cuffs for their own damn good.

It was difficult getting his right hand over so he could cut the plastic, while keeping the lid up with a useless left arm, but somehow he managed. Warm room air mixed with the freezing cold freezer air, freaking his body completely out. But he didn't have time to think about that.

His eyes searched around the room. There was so sign of Kitty or Lance. Jethro braced his arm against the side and pulled himself up, making sure to keep all of his weight on his unbroken leg. He sat on the edge and swung his feet over the side.

Where the hell was Tony? He couldn't see another freezer anywhere. _Damn it_, he thought. These assholes had to go and be difficult, didn't they? They couldn't keep them in just one room, oh no, they had to have two separate rooms.

He mumbled to himself the entire time he hobbled out of there. He kept a firm hand on the wall to help him make the path. His knife was secured between his lips. He had no other place to put it.

He stopped. His eyesight was practically shot, but his hearing was as sharp as it had ever been. He heard crying, and pounding.

Tony.

Moving with much more determination, he followed the sounds through a maze of animal carcasses and machines. His toes would occasionally scrape against the cold concrete floors, and almost sent him to the ground in a heap. His right arm was sometimes the only thing keeping him upright. He made a mental note to work out more.

He finally saw the freezer, and he could make Tony's cries out clearly. "Son of a bitch, let me out! Let me out you piece of crap!" His next words were nothing more than profanity. The top jiggled and moved every few seconds, but the plastic band wouldn't give.

Jethro hopped his way over and pulled his knife out of his mouth. Quickly, he cut the cuff. The lid flew up, nearly hitting him in the face. Tony stared up at him in complete shock.

Jethro just smiled at him as he leaned down and cut the restraints around the younger man's ankles. "Rule nine, DiNozzo. Never go anywhere without a knife."

Tony slowly climbed to his feet. It was a difficult task, considering his wounds and his hands were still behind his back. "Except they took mine, Gibbs."

He turned around and Jethro cut his wrist cuffs. "Get a belt knife."

"I'll have to remember that."

Jethro noticed that the blood around Tony's wrists looked even worse than his. It looked like he may have even cut into the vein. Jethro had to wonder just how desperate Tony was to break free.

"I need your help with something." He said to distract himself from all the blood spreading across Tony's body. Even though they were out of the cold, Tony would probably bleed to death within the hour. He may get lucky and last a while longer, but even that was iffy.

"Name it."

"I need to relocate my shoulder, but I can't do it alone."

Tony nodded. Without instruction, he grabbed Jethro's hand and gripped as hard as he could. Jethro noted that it wasn't very hard at all. Still, the young man placed his other hand on Jethro's shoulder. They nodded their understanding to each other. Jethro knew this was going to hurt.

In complete unison, Jethro pulled his shoulder back, while Tony pushed it forward. He both heard and felt the crack as the bone settled back into place. He bit his lip so hard to keep from screaming in pain that he broke the skin.

He fell into the other man, too worn out to even keep himself upright anymore.

Tony grabbed him and kept him standing, but it was a struggle. His hand was on Jethro's back for support. "Gibbs, come on, I need you to stay with me, ok? Come on, Gibbs, I can't do this alone."

Jethro's hand came up and whacked Tony in the back of the head. Tony yelped in both surprise and pain. "What the hell was that for?"

"For telling Lance and Kitty that I upchucked on my CO."

"I was trying to save your life. And you told them I wet my pants."

Jethro finally peeled away from Tony. "After you talked."

Tony's eyes drifted upwards as he contemplated that. "You have a point." He turned his gaze back to the fed in front of him. "You wanna help me outta here now?"

Jethro hopped a little bit away from the freezer so Tony could climb out. His thigh was bleeding pretty badly. It was his right leg, the opposite leg that Jethro broke. "You're not gonna be able to walk on that leg."

Tony looked down at his wound before shifting his gaze to Jethro's knee. "You're not gonna be able to walk on _that _leg." He met his eyes again.

They nodded together. It was a silent confirmation of how they would support each other. Jethro wasn't sure how or when it happened, but they somehow already knew how to rely on each other. He didn't have that kind of faith in either Burley or Langer. He'd worked with Burley for almost five years now, but they never moved together this well. It was strange, he'd only known Tony for a handful of days, and he already found himself trusting the boy.

Tony climbed over the edge of the freezer and stood on Jethro's left. He wrapped his arm around Jethro's shoulders, and Jethro did the same with Tony. Tony was a little better off in the walking department. While walking was definitely a challenge, he could at least put pressure on his leg. It helped them maneuver.

Carefully, and as quietly as possible they started walking. Jethro expected it to be awkward at first as they figured out their bearings. But Tony let him take the lead, and he followed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Any idea where the exit is?" Tony asked.

"Planning on looking for a big sign that said, 'Exit.'"

"Brilliant, why didn't I think of that?" Tony asked sarcastically.

They heard a scream.

They stopped dead in their tracks at the sound of Kitty's wail. She found out that at least one of them was missing. Still with no idea where the exit was, they couldn't make a break for it. The place was relatively small, and it was clear that their serial killers knew it better than them. But it was cramped, their only choice was to hide.

They wound around some chucks of meat and found themselves against a wall. Jethro clung to his knife with all his strength. It was their only line of defense.

"Lance!" They heard Kitty call. The next sound was the sound of her heels on the floor. "Gibbs is gone! He escaped!"

"That's impossible, he was in no condition to move! How could he even get out of the freezer?"

"I don't have a freaking clue, are you sure you took all of his weapons?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Kitty, of course I did! Did you see if DiNozzo was still locked away? Maybe he got Gibbs out."

"That's impossible, I checked over every inch of that man."

"Well maybe if you spent as much time checking for weapons as you were copping a feel, you would have actually found some!"

"Oh screw you, you are not blaming all of this on me! We have to find them!"

During their argument, Tony toed off his shoes, pulled away from Jethro and leaned down. At first, Jethro didn't understand what he was doing. Then he saw he was picking something upoff the floor. Understanding dawned on him. Jethro slipped his shoe off as well, he didn't bother with his left, since it wasn't actually touching the floor. Tony took whatever it was that he had and tossed it across the room.

It landed with an echoing clank. The two killers stopped fighting immediately. "Did you hear that?" Kitty asked.

"It's over here." Lance said. Their feet fell away from Jethro and Tony.

The two men started moving again, only this time with much more care. Every once in a while, they would grab anything loose that they could and toss it somewhere. It was always away from them, but it always had the desired effect.

"They're over here!"

"No, they're over here!"

They slipped through the meat, staying as far away from the sounds of their voices as they could. Jethro was surprised they hadn't been detected yet. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest so loudly it almost deafened him. He couldn't believe that Lance and Kitty hadn't heard it. They were barefoot now, but he could have sworn every foot fall was the loudest noise coming from the room.

Then he saw it and every other thought left his head. The exit. They were almost free. If they could just make it to the street, they'd be one step closer to freedom.

He didn't know how it happened, but he felt Tony being ripped from his side. He toppled over and flew into a cut of meat. Tony groaned in pain behind him. He wanted to look, but he couldn't. Lance stood in his way, a vein was pulsing in his temple.

He drew back and backhanded Jethro across the face, sending him falling to the ground. A blow was kicked into his gut. He cried out. He probably had about three broken ribs, and having them kicked wasn't what he considered pleasant.

"You just don't give up, do you, Leroy?" Lance kicked him again. Jethro spit up more blood. "You just had to be the hero, didn't you? Didn't you?" He delivered two more kicks, one to Jethro's gut and another to his back.

Jethro couldn't do much except lie there. Each blow sent bright colors, and fireworks to his vision. He couldn't stand, he couldn't defend himself in any way. He was useless.

"By the time your Dr. Mallard gets you, there's going to be nothing left of his dear old friend!" He heard the distinctive sound of metal scraping across metal. They were in a butcher shop, weren't they? Butcher shops had cleavers. "When I'm through with you, you'll be nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing!"

Jethro's eyesight cleared up just in time to see Lance bring the cleaver over his head, ready to strike him down dead. Then the knife twitched.

Lance stood stock still, completely unmoving. Jethro waited for the knife to fall, for his life to end, but it never happened.

Then Lance fell on top of him. Jethro was able to catch his arm before the cleaver hit him, but Lance was just completely dead weight.

It was a struggle to push him off, but he finally managed to do it. When Lance was on the floor next to him, Jethro noticed he wasn't dead weight, he was just dead.

A knife was sticking out of his back, the entire blade disappeared inside of his flesh and blood seeped out around it. He recognized that knife. It was a switchblade, well taken care of. But when he looked up, there was no one standing there.

He heard something scrape across the concrete moments before Tony limped from around the meat. He looked worse than he did before, but he was alive, and smiling. "I found my knife."

He limped forward and grabbed Jethro's outstretched hand. The older man was still in a state of shock. "Where did you learn how to throw knives?"

Tony pulled him to his feet with a loud groan. "Summer camp. I excel at many things, Gibbs." He wrapped Jethro's arm around his shoulder and helped carry him closer to the exit.

"What happened to Kitty?"

Tony shrugged. "Still alive as far as I can tell, but at the moment very unconscious."

Jethro smiled as he let his heart settle back down to normal. He always showed himself to be calm under pressure, but it didn't mean he wasn't scared out of his mind. He was also incredibly grateful. "Remind me to name my next boat after you."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "You build boats?"

Jethro nodded as Tony pushed open the emergency exit door. "And the next one is gonna be called the Tony."

Tony smiled. "I'll hold you to that, Gibbs."

They stepped out into the daylight. The sun felt good on their skin. The air was cold as hell, and Jethro shivered when it made contact with his blood, but he couldn't give a damn. He was alive, and he was free.

Sirens blared loudly as police cars and black sedans pulled to a stop in front of them. At the forefront, Jethro could clearly make out Burley and Langer in the first car on the left, while Morgan rode solo in the car right next to it. The three of them climbed out, all decked out in their bullet proof vests and their respective department or agency logos.

Jethro and Tony shared a smile before Tony spoke. "What took you so long?"

* * *

**Well? Was it up to par? I had to make Tony as least a little bit of the hero, but it was a mutual saving thing. Hoped you liked it, and I will see you all again soon when I get the epilogue up! Ta Ta for now!**

**Bob**


	23. Epilogue

**Well, ladies and gentlemen, it is finally here! The conclusion of my wonderful, fantastic story "Slaughter House!" I would like to take this time to thank every person who took the time to review this story and tell me how much you loved it. I'd write out your names specifically, but there were a lot and the list would end up being longer than the chapter. So instead I'm just going to send out a collective thank you.**

**As a heads up, there will not be an Author's Note at the end of the chapter. I know, I know, finally, right? Now, before I run away and hide in a trench or something, I would like to say that I am thinking about doing a sequel to this story, but fair warning, it may take a while for it to come. I mean, I haven't done any realy slash in a while, and I am by trade a slash writer, so I apologize for that. But that's only if you guys even want a sequel, which I don't know if you do. Well, that is it for me, I hope you enjoy the conclusion! *Ducks and hides for cover.***

* * *

**Epilogue**

Tony spent at least a month in the hospital. An ambulance arrived to cart him and Gibbs away pretty quickly, but considering all of the injuries they sustained, they were still pretty touch and go. Fortunately, the two of them were stubborn jackasses; they didn't give up that easily.

Everything screamed at him in agony the first day that he woke up. He was on pain killers, but they only did so much. He didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep sounded much better.

"Wakey wakey Tony boy."

Tony groaned. He knew that voice. "Go away," he whined.

Denny chuckled. "Not a chance. This is the first time you've woken up in two weeks, I'm savoring this moment."

Tony's eyes snapped open. A big mistake, he realized after. The light was way too bright and it caused his headache to increase tenfold. After Kitty pulled him away from Gibbs, she threw him into a wall, his head hit first. "I've been unconscious for two weeks?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

Denny nodded. "Two incredibly long weeks. Mom and Lea have barely left your side, if that's any consolation."

Tony looked around the room. Sure enough, Mary was sitting next to his bed staring at him like she expected him to code at any moment. Ley was passed out on the empty bed next to him.

"You wanna tell us what happened to you in there?"

Tony looked back to his partner. He was a little hesitant to tell him everything. He didn't want to upset Mary when he didn't have to. But after a while he caved and recounted the majority of what happened in the butcher shop. He explained how Lance and Kitty claimed to be Metro detectives when they first met. Lance's reason for the killings, and above all, the torture. But he left out what Kitty did to him. He didn't need anyone to ever hear about that. As far as he was concerned it never happened.

"That was his motive? Seriously?" Tony jerked around at the sound of Ley's voice. He didn't realize that she woke up. She was staring at him incredulously.

Tony just shrugged. "I don't think he was all together, if you know what I mean."

The girl leaned forward on her elbows. "So what happened after Gibbs got you out?"

Tony continued the story along. "Then after Kitty slammed me into the wall, she came at me with her knife again. Don't ask me how I avoided it, I really don't know. But I knocked it out of her hands and punched her as hard as I could in the face. And her head just slammed into the wall. She was out cold."

Both Ley and Denny were actually smiling. Ley shook her head. "The woman killed at least two men on her own, she tortured you. You could barely stand, let alone walk, and you kicked her ass?"

It took him a second to realize what she was talking about. But when he did, he grinned too. "Well, I mean, she was just a tiny little thing." He said in mock humility. The others shook their heads at him as he explained how he killed Lance.

Nobody asked him how he was doing with that, for which he was incredibly grateful. Truth be told, he didn't know how he was doing. It really hadn't settled in yet. Hell, he just woke up about five minutes ago, he didn't even have his head on straight yet. But he did know something. He didn't regret it. Killing Lance saved Gibbs' life. That was all that mattered. In the two days they worked together, the older man gained Tony's trust and respect. And there was no way in hell he was just going to let him die.

Speaking of which. "Hey, where's Gibbs?" The other three looked at him like he grew a second head. "He still in the hospital?"

"Gibbs checked out five days ago." Denny answered. "Dr. Mallard took him home."

"But he seemed really worried about you. He insisted that he take this bed," Ley pointed to the bed she was currently sitting on. "You really made an impression on him, huh?"

Tony smiled. He was actually a little amused. Gibbs cared about him. How cute.

*~*

Two weeks after he woke up he was cleared to leave. He tried to animatedly jump out of the bed when they told him the good news, but instead he almost fell over. He was good enough to go home, but he wasn't nearly back to his old self again. That would still take some time.

Last he heard, Kitty—or Katherine Letter—was sitting in federal lock up, awaiting trial for four counts of murder in the first degree and two counts attempted murder. She hadn't said a word in interrogation about why she did it. But she didn't need to talk. Gibbs and Tony were the prime witnesses for the prosecution. Lance was declared dead by the medical examiner. Cause of death was the big three inch blade sticking out of his back. It was instant.

It was his first day back as work. He still looked like crap, he still needed pain killers and he walked with a limp. Carnec stuck him on desk duty, but it was better than just lounging around at home all day. The majority of the time he was all alone.

"Hey DiNozzo, you look like crap!" One of his colleagues called across the bullpen.

Tony just smiled. "Good to see you too, Hill." He never took his eyes off the paper work in front of him. He couldn't actually investigate any crimes, so he decided to catch up on his paperwork. He had about… a year of files to report.

He groaned loudly before he picked up his pen and started. It was going to be one hell of a long few weeks.

He felt Denny's eyes burning into his forehead. After a while, he couldn't take anymore. "Either say something, or go be useful."

"Are you sure you're ready to be back at work?"

Tony looked up and met his friend's gaze. "Ok, yeah, I almost died, and I appreciate the concern, but so help me if you act like your mother again, I am tossing you out of that window, do you understand?" He said it all with a sweet smile. Denny shook his head with a chuckle before turning back to his own reports.

"Hey Tony!" Carnec called as he entered the squad room. Tony rolled his head in frustration and looked up. "Your boyfriend's here."

A few of the guys catcalled and wolf whistled at him. But he didn't really hear any of it. Standing just inside the entrance was Gibbs. His arm was in a sling and he was perched awkwardly on a crutch. He looked about as bad as Tony felt, but not nearly as bad as he had that day at the butcher shop.

Tony was slow standing up. His leg protested, but he ignored it. He carefully made his way closer to the older man. As much as his body hated him, he figured Gibbs' would complain even more.

"Gotta say I wasn't expecting to see you here. Miss me that much?" He asked with a smile. His first plan was to cross his arms over his chest and lean against the door frame, but his chest mutinied against him and wouldn't allow him to cause any kind of pressure. Instead, he just leaned.

"Wanted to see how you were holding up."

Tony shrugged his good shoulder. "Better than I thought I'd be. But hey, I survived my first torture session, so, all's good."

Gibbs smirked. "That wasn't what I was talking about."

Tony nodded. "I know." Gibbs wanted to know how he was dealing with what Kitty had done to him and killing Lance. He shrugged again. "He was going to kill you. I mean, it still bothers me, but um… it's not as bad as Neil was."

"You saved my life, Tony. You should be proud of yourself."

Tony shook that off. "You saved my life first. As far as I'm concerned, we're even."

Gibbs nodded. "What about the other thing? You talk about it with anyone?"

Tony's smile fell a little. He shook his head. He knew he probably should have told someone, even if it was just his partner or somebody. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it. Gibbs could tell him all he wanted that it wasn't his fault, but Tony had been around the block enough times to know the truth. If word got out, people would look at him differently, they'd say it was his fault. And he wasn't sure he didn't agree with them. "I appreciate you leaving it out of your report."

Gibbs nodded again. They were silent for a while. It was comfortable. Tony always hated silences. He was used to talking and being loud. He was an Italian with Italian friends, they didn't believe in quiet. But for some reason, he took more solace in Gibbs presence than he did in words.

"So why are you here?" He asked after a moment. Truthfully, his thoughts were starting to scare him. "I doubt you wanted to see my pretty face so soon."

Gibbs shook his head with a small smile on his face. "I came to offer you a job."

That stunned Tony speechless. Not many things gave him that reaction, but hearing those words certainly did. "Seriously?"

"You proved to be a very competent investigator who can keep his cool under pressure. I could use a man like you on my team."

"You already have two agents."

"Langer's a Probie. He's about your age, but he doesn't have your potential. Burley isn't gonna stick around forever. And I saw enough of you in two days to tell me that I can trust you."

Tony still wasn't quite sure what to say. Inside, he wanted to accept. He liked working with Gibbs. He liked NCIS. Ducky was great, and he secretly thought Abby was actually pretty cool. He loved that she was so different than what he would expect from a forensic scientist.

But he still found himself shaking his head. "Sorry Gibbs. I'm gonna have to turn you down."

"Rule number six, Tony, never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness."

"You know you should think about writing those rules down. It'd make one helluva guide book."

Gibbs smirked again. "Is it because of your partner?"

Tony chuckled. "Fornell tell you that?"

"You turned down one hell of a job offer at the FBI because of Morgan. That why you don't wanna work for me? Or do you not get my charm?"

"It's complicated, Gibbs."

"No it's not. Tony, you have a great future ahead of you. You can't hold yourself back for him."

Tony clicked his tongue. He contemplated admitting the truth to Gibbs. Would he understand then? "Before we came to Baltimore, we worked in Philadelphia for a while. You know why we left?" He waited, as if expecting Gibbs to react somehow. When he didn't, he went on anyways. "I fooled around with my captain's daughter. She just turned nineteen too. I couldn't stay in Philly, but Den could've. He could've risen to Detective all by himself, made a life, had a family, whatever. But he chose to follow me. He gave up his future in Philadelphia for me. What the hell kind of person would I be if I abandoned him after that?"

Gibbs was quiet for a while. "You know I'm not gonna offer Morgan a job."

"Yeah, I know."

They stayed locked in each other's eyes. There wasn't anger on Gibbs' face. A hint of disappointment. But also a strong sense of pride. Tony felt his heart well up at that sight. "The job's yours if you change your mind."

Tony nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Gibbs turned to leave. Tony thought of something. "You knew I'd say no." Gibbs looked at him over his shoulder. Tony's smile grew wider. "Was that really just a test, or a real job offer?"

Gibbs shrugged his good shoulder. "Little of both."

"That boat you name after me better be a nice one."

Gibbs turned to the elevator. "I'll paint it rainbow, that'll describe you perfectly."

Tony almost protested, but Gibbs was already on the lift and the doors were closing. Tony just stood there grinning like a fool. He knew that wasn't going to be the last time he saw the agent. He'd have to see him when his boat set sail, after all. And who knows? Maybe he and Denny could manage to wriggle their way into NCIS.

He hobbled back over to his desk. He still had a mountain of paperwork he had to tackle. Denny eyed him curiously. "What did Gibbs want?"

Tony shrugged his one shoulder again. "Wanted to ask me out, but I told him my heart belonged to you."

Denny rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his own pile of paper. Tony stopped and stared at his partner for a while, that smile still etched on his lips. He knew he made the right call today. And he wouldn't regret it.

Pulling his thoughts back together he picked up his pen again. It was going to take him at least a week to complete all of those reports.

**The End**


End file.
